Goblin Gratitude
by corvusdraconis
Summary: AU, HG/SS: Severus Snape stumbles into a new beverage place in Diagon Alley and finds none other than Hermione Granger serving drinks instead of doing-well, something more magical? Now he is driven to find out why the brilliant, upcoming witch had been forced into such a fate. But why does he even care?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A bunny that mugged me while driving to the grocery. What the _heck_, brain?

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, and Flyby Commander Shepard

**A/N 2: **To Guest, who seems to think One Step is a trainwreck failure: I get that I (and my betas) miss stuff. I get that there are perfectionists out there that think things should be better if you publish at all, but ranting on stories I wrote two years or two days ago is not like you are reviewing a highly-polished paid story. These fics are written for my own amusement, and I love it when it entertains others as well. That's just a bonus. Unless I'm screwing up every sentence from 1-20k words, okay then I understand more love should have gone into it, but those that know me know I keep a hellacious schedule between school and work. It's a miracle I have time to sleep (wait, I don't… hrm) in between shifts. My betas keep crazy hours, too, but we all enjoy sitting down to write together as we can. They deserve praise for putting up with me and my obnoxious hours, not disdain and ridicule. No one is perfect, and neither are you. I bet, if you were to ask the majority of my readers, they would rather me publish my chapters as I can than wait another 2 months for me to have time to proof 20-30k 2-3 times to make sure all the kinks are out.

I digress. Onward to the story!

* * *

**Goblin Gratitude**

A Short Story by CorvusDraconis

_The friend in my adversity I shall always cherish most. I can better trust those who helped to relieve the gloom of my dark hours than those who are so ready to enjoy with me the sunshine of my prosperity._

Ulysses S. Grant

Evil, Snape decided, was undoubtedly coloured in sickening shades of cutesy pastels, but even more so was the entire inane concept of "war hero" celebrations where they wanted people to come out and get totally knackered whilst waxing poetic about how bloody _awesome _everyone was to have survived the war.

As if merely surviving the war somehow made you a hero.

They invited him to join the festivities every year, but every year he told them precisely, and with _explicit _detail, exactly where to stick it.

His Order of Merlin First-Class had endowed him with sufficient funds to build an apothecary and get away from the hellish nightmare of teaching hormonal dunderheads.

He did have dunderheaded customers, but they actually _**PAID **_him very well for his services, even if they couldn't read or comprehend even the simplest directions to save their foolish lives.

He knew Minerva would have preferred for him to remain at Hogwarts, but he'd had more than enough of that ruddy broom-wreck trying to serve two masters who desperately wanted to kill the other without actually doing it themselves.

His soul had had quite enough of _that_, thank you very much.

Lucius had lost nearly everything but the shirt on his back thanks to the Dark Lord commandeering his house, killing off his prized white peacocks (because they were noisy birds and far too pretty), and draining his family vaults to fuel his war engine.

The irony of ironies was that Lucius and Draco were working for _him—_

But one thing Lucius was quite good at was depositing their earnings into myriad places that made them even more money, so they were comfortable enough.

Well, _he _was perfectly comfortable.

Lucius, on the other hand, claimed he was living in abject poverty and was always three white peacocks short of paradise—

To each their own.

He wasn't starving. Far from it, in fact. Severus just wished he'd stop whinging so bloody much about not being able to afford prime Wagu beef or whatever the hell it was called.

Might as well be Whinging beef, as far as Snape saw it.

Draco, however, seemed to have turned over a brand new leaf. He began to properly follow directions, he lost the ridiculous preening arrogance, he did what he was told _without _his father's incessant childish whinging, and he didn't blow anything up either.

Kudos to the boy for that.

He also had fantastically ornate yet quite legible penmanship, and he designed the (admittedly beautiful) parchment labels on all of their stock.

Gods knew Snape's own handwriting was akin to cipher and shorthand put together by a stampede of rampaging hippogriffs. Oh, he could write neatly enough, but why? _He _could read it. That was all that mattered.

Right?

So, their White Peacock Apothecary (_damn_ you, Lucius Malfoy) was a positively raging success, at least if you wanted top quality potions made, access to the very finest ingredients for your own potion experiments, or perfectly brewed bases to help you "cheat" your way into making your own stuff.

Snape really didn't _care_.

They were being paid plenty of good galleons for brews that even the most inept Hogwarts first year would have difficulty messing up, simply because most people were lazy sods who would far rather add something to half of something than spend the time and effort required to brew a potion all by themselves.

At least Snape's bases were positively exemplar.

No one in the potions mastery board had ever, ever complained about his work.

Okay, those few who _did _were buried so deep in documentation that it would take them the next twenty years to dig themselves a tunnel out of it.

Snape smiled wickedly.

It served the dunderheads right.

But, going back to the current annoyance at hand—

Diagon Alley was a virtual ghost town at the moment. No place seemed to be open thanks to that stupid Post-War Ball number—oh, whatever bloody year they were on now.

He'd stopped counting at one.

Some people puttered about aimlessly, but the vast majority of the shops were closed so the owners could attend the celebration where tons of free food and free-flowing drink were on hand.

That didn't really help him to get a drink for himself, and he was thirsty enough to drink a whole hogshead all by himself—sans the alcohol, however. He had no intention of becoming like his drunken arsewipe of a da.

_Ever_.

A soft glow of night lanterns lit up one shoppe he hadn't bothered to visit in all the time he'd been in Diagon Alley.

The Glacial Gambol had opened perhaps a year or so after he'd opened his apothecary, and he had refused to patronise the place due to its "new" and "trendy" feel. Few new places lasted in Diagon Alley if they weren't rooted in some tradition that everyone needed, and there was already the Leaky for drinks—

But the Leaky wasn't open because old Tom was off having other people serve _him _for once, and other shoppes, restaurants, food carts, and vendors had folded up for the occasion as well.

Pigeons were boldly strutting about the streets picking up crumbs due to the rare lack of crowds, and that was telling enough in itself.

Truth be told, he had no idea what made the Glacial Gambol popular at all since he hadn't been in there even _once_, but there was far too much traffic in there for his taste.

Still—

He was so terribly thirsty, and water just wasn't cutting it.

Tea wasn't cutting it either, and coffee always made his pish smell of, well, coffee.

Fine, he'd go.

Just this _once_.

The front of the place was done in soft to dark blues much like the glacier it was named for, nothing too pastel to make it offensive. It didn't look like the Easter Bunny had crapped obnoxiously pastel eggs over the front either, which made it acceptable in appearance at least. There were no obnoxious moving, blinking magical signs with flashing arrows pointing the way either. It was just a shoppe like something you'd see on a Muggle storefront. The front window boasted an assortment of different coloured glass bottles, all labelled with a familiar-looking script that he _swore _he remembered from somewhere before the thought escaped him completely.

He walked in the door, and the soft tinkle of a cat-like bell rang out.

A young tortoiseshell Kneazle in predominant shades of honey, chocolate and cream looked up at him from the counter, her dainty ears flicking once before deciding he was acceptable enough to be ignored.

"_**Just a moment!"**_ a voice called out from the back.

He heard snippets of a soft conversation shortly after, but he couldn't quite make out what was being said, almost as if a _Muffliato _was being used, and yet—

No, there were words, but he just couldn't quite make them out.

That was… impressive, considering he could normally make out hushed words from the rear of a crowded classroom or the Dark Lord's dining table.

He examined the drink selection, frowning at the names of some of the drinks on offer.

_**Sunset Sky**_

_**Sunrise Flare**_

_**Moonlight Amongst the Moonflowers**_

_**Blissful Relaxation**_

_**Northern Lights**_

_**Pick Me Up Kick to the Head **__(the hell?)_

_**Don't Be a Dunderhead**_

_**Dragon Fruit Over the Water**_

_**When Tea Just Won't Do**_

_**When Even Espresso Seems Weak**_

_**When Ogden's Isn't an Option Anymore**_

_**Whine for Whingers **__(Maybe I should get some for Lucius, hrm.)_

_**Guilt-Free Bubbly**_

_**Grapefruit Fun Frolic**_

_**Black Cherry Left Hook**_

_**Ginger Grin Punchbowl**_

_**Citrus Satisfaction**_

_**Chocolicious Mudslide**_

_**Sassy Sass-parilla**_

_**Mango Goldfish Bowl **_

_**Raspberry to the Face**_

_**Stormy Night Sipper**_

_**Umami Your Mummy **__(Snort.)_

_**Make Your Brown Eyes Blue**_

_**Burns Night in Scotland**_

_**Irish Eyes Are Smiling **_

Well, there were definitely a _lot _of interesting names, that was for sure.

A small child ran into the shoppe, rushing past him without a care or so much as a howdy-do. He slammed a galleon down on the counter.

"Mummy said the usual!"

A witch with a long mane of whisky-coloured hair emerged from the back carrying a small barrel that looked like a miniaturised hogshead.

"Hello there, Angus! I have the usual for your mum. Did you want your usual too, hrm?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the boy said, bobbing his head with enthusiasm and holding out his refillable tankard.

"Here you go, pet," she said, after washing and filling his little tankard with—ah, the Don't Be a Dunderhead. She shrank the barrel down with a swing and swish of her wand, and the boy took it in his hand and raced out the door to his waiting mum. The witch waved inside before herding her happy sprog away.

"Professor Snape," the voice greeted. "Welcome to Glacial Gambol. Would you like to sample the drinks before deciding on one?"

Snape blinked. He focused beyond the graceful mane of curls to see familiar but slightly changed features.

Adult features with a fine figure to match.

As a student, she'd always been more hair than face, but with her hair tamed with a fascinating Goblinesque-style hair ornament he couldn't quite place, he suddenly saw her as if for the very first time.

"Miss Granger," he said, trying not to stumble over his words like an inept foreigner.

She smiled at him with a slight baring of teeth… for a moment he wondered if she was snarling at him, but—

No, she seemed utterly respectful. Nothing in her stance said otherwise.

"Hermione, please, Professor," she said. "Miss Granger makes me feel eleven-years-old again, and I'd rather not revisit that."

She smiled at him and he found himself happy to see such a friendly expression aimed at _him _for once.

"Thank you," he said. "I would like to try a sample, if you don't mind."

"Hrm, you look like a Stormy Night Sipper, if I'm not mistaken." She put a small snifter under one keg and let loose a dark, almost purple-hued drink from the tap. She handed it to him without even a flinch—not even a tremble of the old student that he remembered. Her slender fingers, as they brushed his, had a warmth about them that seemed to travel to his toes, and that was before he even took a sip of the drink.

His eyes not leaving hers, he sniffed the drink, baffled that he could not discern exactly what was in it. That, too, was rare.

He drank it slowly, expecting some sort of overly sweet drink for a child, and his eyes widened as he felt like he was drinking a warm, fragrant and luxuriously spiced drink by a crackling fire during a wild stormy night.

He blinked, somewhat disoriented.

Hermione was looking at him with calm yet curious expectation. "Did I guess wrong?"

He downed the whole sample in one more gulp. "No. No, it's just fine. It was… quite acceptable."

Again the smile tugged at her lips.

"High praise indeed from you, Professor," she said. "What size would you like? Would you like a menu? We have a few soup, sandwich and entree selections here, but we do try not to step on Tom's toes over at the Leaky."

"I'll have the standard glass," he said, pointing to the English Pub glass. He eyed the larger glasses with some suspicion, wondering if people liked to wear their drink as much as drink it.

"And I'll just sit over there," he added, pointing at the table in a darker corner away from the front window.

Hermione tilted her head in acknowledgement, waving her hand as a tablecloth, menu, place setting, and napkin glided over and settled it. Fluffy spiders the size of a snitch glided down on silken threads, arranged the settings, fluffed the napkin, and then disappeared back up the silk strand.

"You have—some interesting employees here," Snape said, his eyebrows furrowing.

"They work for lacewing flies, and it makes them happy to help out around the shoppe," Hermione said, smiling warmly. She placed a menu on the table for him. "Here you go," she added, placing down his glass of Stormy Night Sipper. "Please let me know when you are ready to order."

"What is today's special?" he blurted, utterly baffled at himself.

Hermione turned. "Dragon-spiced pork tenderloin with roasted plum sauce. Caramel apple fritters with clotted cream gelato for dessert. The fritters are lovingly fried to order by our team of dragonets."

Snape's eyebrows rose. He had no doubt they were the best cared for, most well-compensated dragonets in the entire Wizarding world.

She probably even hand-knitted them wing warmers in the winter months.

A golden dragonet flew at her face and clung to her forehead.

"Hello there, Brekke," she laughed. "Did you hear yourself being spoken of?"

The dragonet wobbled and opened her mouth hungrily.

Hermione picked up what looked like a small meatball from a warmer and held it out to her. The dragonet squeaked with pleasure, rubbed her head against Hermione's cheek, and then eagerly snatched the meatball up and flew off with it.

"I'll have that," Snape said as his stomach growled fearsomely, suddenly all too aware of just how many nights he only had a quick cheese sandwich or a tin of whatever he found hoarded away in his cupboards on any given evening. Potion master, yes. Cook? Too lazy for that.

Hermione glided off, her hand reaching to push her hair around her ear. "Oh, Augustus, you sneaky little thing." A small bat squeaked indignantly from the tangles in her hair, clinging to her ear. Her delicate ear looked distinctly pointed, but Snape dismissed it as part of the bat's wing getting tangled up in her mane of curls.

She untangled the little mammal and gave it a grape from the counter. She said something, but to him it sounded like gibberish. The bat seemed to understand her, squeaked back, and flew off with its cherished grape.

"It'll be just a few minutes, Professor," she said, disappearing behind the curtain.

The bell on the door tinkled, and Severus found himself watching a stream of goblins walking in from the street.

"_Kan de lefkersi!"_ one goblin said.

"_Saski far!"_ Hermione's voice came from behind the curtain.

The goblins hopped onto the stools, setting their tankards down on the counter, filled out the booths, and took up almost all the tables.

"_Kan der koffe si dan?" _Hermione asked, poking her head out from the curtain.

"_Ka!"_ they goblins cheered, laughing.

Hermione laughed, bowing slightly with a bare of her teeth—her pristinely white, perfectly clean teeth that Snape swore looked a wee bit unnervingly… sharp.

She walked out with a large tray of steaming food that smelled absolutely heavenly. She stopped at Snape's table and set down his dinner with a smile before setting plates down for every goblin and serving them drinks as well.

They all chattered at her in what Snape presumed was Gobbledegook, but he wouldn't know a word of that.

Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes at one, making a show of mixing his drink from all the kegs, stirring it, and giving it to him. The goblin promptly slammed it down and then thumped his tankard back on the counter.

"_Ka!"_ the goblins all cheered together, eating and drinking with a kind of merriment that Severus had never seen on a goblin whether inside or outside of Gringotts.

Snape almost forgot to eat, his fork moving to push food into his mouth only to feed his nose. He had no idea goblins even dined at wizarding establishments. He had no idea where they even ate outside of Gringotts, to be fair.

Hermione walked out with a large belt pouch and placed it in front of one of the elder goblins. "_Ko de farne, Grissnak. Ku vat?" _

The elder goblin bared his teeth at her, patting her on the hands. She smiled at him. He spilled the pouch out, and a large stream of galleons came out—like a waterfall of gold, piling up on the goblin's table. He clucked in appraisal, his face taking on that stern, almost-oppressive look almost every goblin wore at Gringotts. Then he sniffed, moving his hand over it, and the galleons marched back into the pouch. "_Ku vat, ka!"_

Hermione beamed at him, presenting the elder goblin with his tea. She disappeared into the back.

One of the other goblins nudged another with his elbow, laughing, gesturing to where Hermione disappeared.

The other goblin shook his head and passed the other a galleon. A bet had been lost, apparently.

As the food was cleaned away, the goblins waved their hands on the far wall, and the dining seats moved away to expose lines of bookshelves and a study area. They all sat down in the chairs and at the desks, reading and writing studiously as they sipped their after-dinner tea. Hermione came every so often to refresh the tea, and the goblins grimaced at her. She grimaced back, obviously not taking any offence at the gesture.

The elder goblin looked at his pocket watch and grunted. He thumped his hand on the desk, and all the goblins cleaned off their areas and put the restaurant back to rights, hiding the bookshelves and desks once more.

The door tinkled, and a tall, scarred wizard with long ginger hair walked in. He immediately bowed as the elder goblin went by, performing a familiar grimace of teeth as he did so.

"_Kla ve sand moor,_ William," the elder Goblin said, walking out.

"I will see you in the morning, Elder Grissnak," Bill said politely, not lifting his head until the goblins all filed out.

Severus frowned as he realised that not one of them had left money for their meals. Was Hermione paying off the Goblin Nation (_still_) from her escape via dragon through Gringotts? Was _that _what the bag of galleons was about?

It seemed unusually amiable for a payoff.

"_Saski far—_oh! Bill!" Hermione said, laughing. "Want your usual?"

"_Ka_," Bill replied with a laugh.

"_Klo vish candi far?" _Hermione asked cheekily.

"Gods, Hermione. _Nash!_ I'm not as fluent as you!" Bill laughed, pointing at his favourite keg.

Hermione grinned, filling his tankard with Blissful Relaxation and sliding him a thick roast beef sandwich that had been previously placed in stasis—the sign of a frequent customer.

"Looks like I missed the _sarketh_," Bill said almost wistfully.

"Goblins _do _love their evening meals," Hermione said, winking.

Bill downed half of his drink and sighed. "Fleur sends you her love."

"Ah, tell her she's sweet, and I return it."

Bill looked at the line of kegs. "How does it feel to be one of the few master brewmasters the Goblin Nation has ever produced?"

Hermione chuckled. "_Pruv da tu farkun. Haar da tu Glutra_. Pride to my family. Honour to my Nation."

Bill bared his teeth and bowed his head. "Truly took to the blood, Hermione. I'm so happy for you. I can't _believe _those two berks didn't even try to make good on their share of the damages to Gringotts. Of course, my manipulative little sister promptly busied herself filling Harry's mind with certain other priorities. Ron—well, he hasn't been quite right in the head since Fred's death. The post-war money and adulation went straight to his head. I tried to warn him, but as far as Ron's concerned, I'm just the big dummy who works for a bunch of non-humans and fell into bed with one too."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "I'm so sorry you and Fleur are still being treated that way by your own family."

"I'm so sorry _you _were treated like the scum of the Earth after the war, Hermione. I'm extra sorry I was Egypt at the time so I couldn't read them the riot act when it happened. That ruddy Skeeter cow—she worked quite the grand scheme in elevating the Weasleys at your expense. You should have gotten every last apprenticeship you ever wanted—"

"_Nash,_" Hermione answered quietly. "I found my family again, Bill. My biological parents—they are alive, but they will never remember me. I have a true family now in the _Glutra. _A home. A people. I would not give it up for anything. And we have the most successful Goblin business that no one knows about," she said with a laugh. "Grissnak says that with all my investments, I've already taught all those stuffy old masters that I can survive and even thrive without their stupid human apprenticeships. He said it with more gnashing of teeth, though."

Bill snorted. "To think they turned down your Potions apprenticeships because of—"

"_Nash_, Bill," Hermione admonished him gently. "It was no one's fault. They made up their reasons, and they used Skeeter's poison quill to do it. Now, they pay me every week if not every day to drink a little bit of paradise. They support the one they dismissed, and they support the _Glutra _too, whether they realise it or not."

"_Haar da te Glutra," _Bill said softly.

Hermione smiled, tilting her head. She straightened. "Professor, would you like a dessert drink?"

Bill startled as he realised there was someone else in the restaurant.

Snape jumped a little, having been digesting far more than a good meal in the last hour or more.

"I would not mind one," he answered truthfully.

"This one is _Ski da vi_," Hermione said. "Sky Between the Branches. Not the same as the green tea from China, though." She poured him a small glass and placed it on the table. "On the house for having survived the great goblin invasion known as dinner time."

Snape sipped it and gasped in astonishment as a shiver of light spring breezes seemed to glide across his skin. "This is _amazing_."

Hermione's smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You are most welcome."

Severus found the words tumbling out without his permission. "Are you still paying off the goblins for the damage to Gringotts?"

Hermione tilted her head, turning to look at him. "No, Professor, why?"

"I saw the galleons—" he said, confused as to why such funds would be passing through the goblins and then have them not leave money.

Hermione suddenly smiled. "Ah, so you think I'm paying them off still and that they do not pay me!"

She seemed genuinely amused.

"_Nash_," she said. "All profits I make go directly to Elder Grissnak. He invests them for me in the places that gain the most interest. The interest is then used to pay the bills. The meals here are all paid direct from goblin vaults. Gringotts pays a flat fee each day to ensure dinner fare is paid in full for however many come. It's kind of like Muggle credit cards only Goblins are much better at it and work on the honour system. Oh dear, you must have thought they were extorting me! How embarrassing."

Severus drank his dessert drink. "I sincerely apologise for the error, Miss Granger."

"You needn't," she replied kindly. "How could you possibly have known?"

Snape found himself frowning, not at the question but at the realisation that Hermione had apparently been completely ostracised by her former friends after the war and had in turn been so isolated that no one even realised she'd disappeared into the Goblin Nation and emerged as her own, strong individual, free of the ties that used to bind her.

"_Are you finished, mister?" _

Snape startled as he realised there was a clutter of small fluffy spiders perched all around his table.

"Uh, yes?"

"_Okay!" _

The spiders quickly cleared his table and wiped it down, leaving him with just his dessert drink and a fresh napkin. Then they disappeared back into the woodwork without a sound.

Snape found himself wondering if he'd perhaps missed an essential class in Care of Magical Creatures.

"Bill, did you want to take home some dinner for Fleur?"

"That would be fantastic, Hermione. But only if it's not too much trouble."

"Never any trouble. There is extra food, and you know it is expected to take care of the family."

"Twist my arm, will you, love?"

Hermione touched her nose and disappeared behind the curtain. She came back a few minutes later with a number of takeaway boxes carefully bundled in a clothbound wrap. "My very best to Fleur, Bill."

"I'll send her your love," he said, giving her a slight bow and a grimace with teeth.

She did the same.

Bill disappeared out the door and down the street as the _**crack **_of his Disapparation signalled his departure.

"Would you like anything else, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Severus," he replied. "Please. I no longer teach."

"Somehow I doubt that. A teacher never truly stops any more than a student never stops learning," Hermione said, a familiar sparkle in her eyes that spoke of inspiration and eternal thirst for knowledge. "You may call me Hermione, and you will always have been my professor—_Severus_."

Snape startled at the softness of his name in her voice. There was no malice—no bitterness or waiting acid. It was just his name said kindly.

How utterly unfamiliar and—

_Pleasureable?_

"Miss Granger—"

Hermione turned back, amusement on her face at the still-formal address.

"Why did you not come to me for an apprenticeship?"

Hermione's smile turned into a sombre line of her lips. Her eyes darted downward in thought as if deciding if truth overruled polite conversation. "I did not want there to be a misunderstanding of obligation. I held you to no debt, nor did I wish you to think you did not have a choice in the matter." She sighed heavily. "I did not give my parents a choice; I should have at least tried to."

She cracked her neck as she moved her head from side to side in a slow, deliberate stretch. It was subtle, but Severus could tell she suffered from some sort of pain—the kind Cruciatus left as parting gifts after long relationships. "I could not have borne the brunt of your anger at that point in my life. Your hatred. I was far too broken—too betrayed. To think that you would have thought me so shallow and as manipulative as many others had been, even if it was a lie, was too much to bear."

She looked at him with a sad expression. "I was very young and had unrealistic dreams and far too many harsh reality checks." She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I do hope you enjoyed your meal here, Severus," she said, a trace of the old smile on the corners of her lips, but the sadness still hung in the cognac flames in her eyes. "If it met your expectations, please feel free to visit us again."

She disappeared behind the curtain, and a spider appeared with a small tray and the bill.

He stared at it to see all the prices were more than reasonable—only the total was crossed off. Written in fine penmanship was, "Thank you for saving our lives—far more often than we ever knew" graced the parchment.

Snape's fingers brushed lightly against the dark aubergine ink.

He left the largest tip he had ever left anyone in his entire life on the table, feeling as though he had cheated her out of fair earnings.

Before he left, he grabbed small keg of "Whine for Whingers" for Lucius and "Chocoholic Mudslide" for Draco, placing one galleon for each of them after reading the small placards with the prices on the wall.

As he left, the truth set in like a bludger to the head.

Hermione Granger had been the one that saved his life after Nagini had tried her best to relieve him of it.

She hadn't asked him anything out of fear that the Life Debt compulsion would force him to accept and thus earn her his ire and his resentment.

She had cared for his life and his freedom even then, and like an oblivious fool, he had been none the wiser.

* * *

Draco practically tackled him for the small keg of Chocoholics Mudslide, having, clamping his mouth over the tap and just pouring it directly down his throat.

Severus gave him a very "the hell" look that amounted to his eyebrows trying to both furrow and launch into the air at the same time.

Lucius at least had the decency to thank him politely and use an actual _glass_… right before he gave his uncouth son a swift smack upside the head for being—an uncivilised heathen.

"You already _knew _about the Glacial Gambol?" Severus asked, astounded that he'd never heard them talk about it or even suggest they liked anything from the place.

"It's the absolute _best _place for drinks in all of Britain," Draco enthused, having finally been cowed by his father swatting him upside the head to "use a proper glass."

Snape frowned. "Granger is wasting her valuable time working for a drink business," he said. "William Weasley was there and said her fair-weather idiot Gryffindor friends had left her to hang in the wind."

Lucius had the decency not to spit his drink out on Snape's face. "Granger is _hardly _destitute, Severus, I can certainly assure you of that."

Snape blinked. "She has to resort to giving up her hard won wages to the goblins—"

Lucius threw his head back and laughed out loud—that rare, rich, rolling laughter that tended to make females swoon and many men… well, swoon too.

"Severus, my dear brother, you are utterly brilliant in most everything else yet you can be remarkably thick in the matter of simple observation when it doesn't involve some life-threatening Dark Lord or a manipulative old goat."

Snape scowled. "What are you on about, Lucius?"

Lucius chuckled. "I'm betting you truly think that she was shafted in being denied her formal potions apprenticeship, hrm? Perhaps you also think the goblins chose to enslave her to pay off Potter and Weasley's debts as well?"

"Well, isn't it true?"

"I've invested in many a thing in my life, Severus," Lucius said. "And not once, in all my family's life, have the goblins _ever _worked their unique business savvy on our family's behalf. They will protect what we invest, they will even refer us to the finest professionals for all of our investment needs—but they will not under any circumstances, invest for us."

Snape frowned. "What are you saying, Lucius?"

"Do you know _why _the Wizarding world tries to suppress the Goblin Nation? Not permit them to use wands?"

"I never really thought of it, no," Severus confessed.

"Goblins naturally attract wealth," Lucius said slowly. "It is—a bonafide innate talent of those who are and have fully embraced the goblin way of life and passed their coming of age. For all those born of the Nation, it is expected and normal, but there is a sort of unspoken rule that they do not use this affinity for anyone but another goblin."

"Granger is _hardly _a goblin," Snape scoffed.

Lucius chuckled. "On the contrary. She is unquestionably a genuine goblin."

Severus' nostrils flared. "Have you found a new way of insulting Muggleborns, Lucius?"

Lucius jerked back in surprise. "No, Severus. I am in fact being quite serious. For a witch or wizard to be found so worthy by the goblins is an exceptional honour that is very infrequently bestowed. To be adopted into the Nation itself—is even more remarkable and worthy of true respect. That Miss Granger has achieved such rare distinction among them is well worthy of admiration and even envy, my friend. Yes, even from the likes of me."

Lucius seemed somewhat reflective as he stared into the depths of his drink.

"The Goblin Nation, much like those of Muggleborn heritage, is something that most members of Wizarding high society would far rather ignore and sweep under the rug. No one from one of the old families would ever wish to admit that they were simply "normal" or that another species was capable of doing something that they could not. I grew up having just those thoughts flogged daily into my being. I, in turn, raised our Draco to believe such nonsense—quite fortunately for him, he did not take to it as thoroughly I had in the end."

Draco drank down the last of his drink and sighed. "Hermione and I made our peace some time ago, Uncle. It was because of her that we were able to keep the estate after the Dark Lord's constant demands for gold drained away practically everything that Father had."

"_What?"_ Severus asked with a disbelieving furrow of his brows.

"Draco had been filtering Granger funds to invest in Muggle stocks while we still had it. Namely his inheritance and anything else he could smuggle out from under my nose."

"You went to _Granger_?" Severus asked, visibly shocked. "While you were still at Hogwarts?"

"Why always the tone of surprise, Uncle?" Draco asked, snorting in amusement. "Hermione and I decided to agree to disagree ever since she punched me square in the face in our third year. I suddenly realised that she had far more to respect about her than I'd previously assumed. That, and the girl had more brains in her little finger than the Weasel and Potty had in their entire sodding bodies. More than most of Slytherin house back then, at that."

Severus, stunned by yet another unexpected revelation, seemed to reach a sudden epiphany. "Ah, so _that _was why you refused my help."

Draco sighed. "I didn't trust you to not go telling my father about anything I did."

Snape raised a raven brow.

"He calls you brother," Draco said simply, as if that explained anything. "That meant he fully trusted you and, to _me_, that meant you were much more likely to tell him something if he asked you about it."

Severus said nothing, but he shook his head wearily. "So—Granger saved the Malfoy fortune by filtering your funds into Muggle investments." He began to chuckle until it finally bubbled forth into a true, unfiltered guffaw. "That's so rich."

Lucius nursed his glass. "It _did _take quite a bit of soul searching to come to terms with that as well as the fact that my son had remained true to his Slytherin roots while also discreetly supporting a known Muggleborn Gryffindor."

"His actions ultimately saved our family from losing everything, but even so, we are not what we once were. I find that I—can only be grateful that we did not lose everything and that you allowed us to lick our wounds and reclaim our family honour with you."

Severus stared into space, thinking. "Filius never seemed all that inclined for wealth or even holding onto his knuts."

"He's half-human who chose his human side and the magic of humans over his goblin heritage," Draco said. "He probably never even went through a rite of passage."

"Dare I ask what that would be?" Severus asked, curious.

"Unknown—" Lucius said. "Only the goblins know for sure. But I do know that if he had he wouldn't be struggling to hold onto his knuts, that is for sure."

Severus blinked. "Wait, you mean goblins attract wealth in a _literal _manner? It's not just skill in investment?"

Lucius snorted. "Yes. I suppose that is the reason goblins are so disinclined to help most humans when they break any contracts with them. It's not about the money. It's the honour."

Draco was not so silently losing his marbles as he unsuccessfully tried to not cackle madly in laughter.

Lucius frowned at his son. "What in Merlin's name are you _on _about, boy?"

"_**Hehehhee. Heheh**_. You said… _**Heheh… HEHEHE!**_" Draco cackled. "Flitwick _**EHHEHE**_ couldn't Heh _**HEE**_ heeeeeeeee hold onto his heh_**HEHEHEHE**_ knuts!"

Lucius closed his eyes, counting very slowly to ten in what appeared to be Russian.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and walked straight into his brewing laboratory, closing the door firmly behind him.

Lucius swiftly drank down another full glass of his Whine For Whingers as he contemplated how proper it would be to throw things at his son since no one else was around to witness it.

* * *

"If you're interested in the witch, man, just go talk to her."

"I am _not_."

"To be crude yet accurate, Severus… bullshite." Lucius said calmly as he steepled his fingers together over the ledgers.

Severus' hand hesitated over his cauldron as his black eyes narrowed.

Lucius leveled a steel-blue gaze at his old friend. "My friend, you are, in fact, deep within that infamous river that flows through the lands of Egypt."

Severus' eyebrow raised steeply. "_Denial_, Lucius? Really? How very… Muggle of you."

Lucius shrugged elegantly. "Doesn't make it any less true."

Severus seemed to look at his friend in a new light. "Since when have you ever encouraged me to pursue a Muggle-born anything?"

Lucius shrugged. "Since the sodding Dark Lord almost got us all killed, and by us I mean the entire bloody Wizarding and Muggle world alike. Since that _particular _Muggle-born witch saved my family from being wiped off the fair face of Creation. And before you ask, it had nothing to do with her being a goblin either."

"Muggle-born."

"Goblin, Severus."

"She's fully human, idiot."

Lucius sighed deeply and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Why does it even _matter_, Severus? You of all people should hardly be the one quibbling over such innocuous things considering you were always hinting to me that Muggle, centaur, merfolk, whatever, it didn't matter what they were as long as they possessed a functional brain and actually used it."

Lucius frowned, then added, "Witless imbeciles, I believe, is what you termed all those who dared claim otherwise."

Severus let out a gusty sigh. "Look, I neither want nor need any additional problems in my life, Lucius. No one is worth that kind of lunacy and hassle—"

Suddenly Lucius stood up, throwing a damask napkin directly at Severus' face with preternatural speed, grace, and accuracy.

"Ah, Ms Granger," he said, his smooth voice both silk and honey even as the napkin was clinging to Snape's face like a veil. "Was my son able collect what you required?"

"Yes, thank you, Lord Malfoy," Hermione's voice replied smoothly. "Every so often the spiders like to have treats that differ from their regular lacewing fly fare. I do hope that these cover any trouble you might have had in getting them."

Hermione handed him an simple but elegant cedar box.

Lucius took it smoothly, opening it, even as his eyebrows shot up into his hair. "Goodness. Is this what I believe it to be?"

Hermione bared her teeth slightly, her eyes sparkling. "If you believe it to be Nightmusk Dragon Saffron, Lord Malfoy, then you are a man of impeccable taste."

"I do try to keep that particular skill well-honed, my dear," Lucius said with a tilt of his head.

A spider with a small bucket on its head tugged on her curls, whispered into her ear, and dove back into her mane of hair.

Hermione startled. "Oh, I almost forgot. I finally have that order you gave me a year ago. It took some time to procure. I do hope you did not think I had forgotten."

She pulled out a miniature basket before casting her hand over it. Subtly thick, curved claws curled delicately from her fingertips, pristinely polished and manicured to a mirror-like finish.

Lucius pulled the cloth away from the top of the basket as his eyes widened. "_Glinsterende_ peafowl eggs?" His pale hand reverently touched the warmed eggs. "You got them—"

"I am a goblin of my word, Lord Malfoy," she said with a chuckle and flash of fang. "I would not dishonour my family and Nation by such a disgrace."

Lucius carefully replaced the cloth and set the basket down. He took Hermione's hand swiftly, and brought it up to his mouth and kissed the air so very close to her knuckles. "I would never presume such, my Lady. Thank you."

He bowed slightly at the waist and met her eyes. "I have good news toward the compensation I was hoping would go through. Thanks to some well-worded, if I do say so myself, official wordage, Goblins are now permitted to carry wands if they so choose. It all reads perfectly like a block to the Goblin Nation, but if you read it as well as someone like you, my dear, you will see it was actually favouring the goblins."

Hermione bared her teeth with amusement. "Excellent, Lord Malfoy. I consider our agreement fulfilled. My elders will be pleased, and we shall remember who made it all possible for us, hrm?"

Lucius inclined his head, revelling in his home element of delicate deals. "I would presume, however, that your people who prefer to wield them in secret until one year of unchallenged use passes, hrm?"

"Oh, but of course," Hermione said. Her eyes—now as black as that of any goblin as her glamour faded—sparkled as though full of stars. "Not that we have ever had experience in such subterfuge before," she added with no little amusement.

"You are always welcome to be free of such glamours here, my Lady," Lucius said warmly.

"It _is _appreciated," Hermione replied, her hand brushing her curls away from one distinctively long and pointed ear. "I will, however, try not to let the Kneazle out of the bag when you have other clientele."

"My Lady," Lucius said, smooth as freshly-churned butter on a warm day. "Secrets are kept well with me."

Hermione smiled with a flash of fang. "Good eve," she said with a small curtsey before she exited. She turned to Draco and bow-smiled as she left. "I'll have your regular waiting for you, Draco."

"Thanks, Hermione," Draco replied with clear anticipation.

The damask napkin chose that moment to fall off Snape's face after having lost purchase on his nose.

"Was that _really _necessary?" Severus asked, his lip curling in disdain.

"I will keep your own inability to recognise a positive force in your life a secret too, brother," Lucius said smoothly, dispelling the disillusionment charm on the napkin.

"Wherever did you learn that charming little parlour trick, Lucius?"

"Sometimes I had to make Draco publicly presentable while he was liberally covered in red currant jelly.

"By making him _invisible_?" Severus retorted.

Lucius gave a gallant shrug.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "So those times you thrust him into my arms and begged me make him presentable?"

Lucius shrugged again.

"I really hate you sometimes, Lucius."

Lucius just smiled.

* * *

Snape began to realise after walking in on Narcissa and Hermione sharing tea and sympathy together that he might have had his head stuck thoroughly up his own arse in painful obliviousness with regard to Granger's importance in the Malfoys' life. Up until then, he had believed that he was the only one helping them get back on their feet again, but now he was realizing that while his help truly was needed in many ways—their family influence and honour had remained fully intact thanks to the one person no one would _ever _have suspected.

"I think something very strange is going on, Hermione," Narcissa said quietly, the tone of concern that Snape knew all too well riddling her voice with a slight tremble. "I've always supported our Draco in taking his time to find the right witch, but, dear Merlin… _why _Ginevra Weasley? It was all so terribly sudden and—he never even told us about her before proposing to the girl!"

Hermione's ear twitched with a visible flick. She steepled her fingers in a very "goblin" manner that made her claws stand out as a sort of measure of something Severus couldn't quite determine.

How, he wondered, had he not noticed?

He realised that her more goblin-esque features were so easily dismissed to the uninitiated, and if anything her mane of hair managed to cover up her pointed ears even without the use of the glamour. Even with his years of working closely with Filius Flitwick, he had never noticed such mannerisms, but perhaps that was due to his purposely choosing to live solely as his human side while Hermione had apparently fully embraced the goblin side.

But Granger had not actually been born to a goblin line… as far as he knew.

How then did she have such distinctive goblin features? The innate talent in attracting wealth? The entirely black starfield eyes? Even Filius hadn't had those and he was born a half-goblin.

And she was so—so—tall.

For a goblin, anyway.

Granger's eyebrows furrowed. "I fear I cannot speak for the situation with Harry," she said grimly. "We had a major falling out at the end of the war, as you know. And thanks to his choice to not heed my warning about failing to pay his share of the debts with the goblins after we crashed through the floors and roof riding a dragon—"

Hermione slowly rubbed the area between her eyes. "Admittedly, it _was _a needed thing back then, and even Gringotts realised that, which is why they offered to split the repair fees four ways. The _Glutra_, myself, Harry, and Ronald—to be paid off in installments as needed. Goblins are hardly unrealistic about such things, but they are not very—erm, what is the term—_tolerant _of being ignored. It wasn't that the goblins couldn't afford to repair, either, and the price to do so was not so bad since the curse-breakers were only happy to perform a little magical reconstruction as well. The physical repairs were relatively easy. It was reweaving all the wards, replacing the dragon, and getting all the paperwork handled to switch training methods for the dragon. Looking back on it, I can say the fees expected of us were entirely reasonable."

"But when both Harry and Ron flatly refused to make any kind of restitution, Gringotts closed off access to their accounts until if and when the situation is addressed. As I understand it, the vaults are currently _krekvist_. Honour bound." Hermione chuckled lowly. "And I will be the first to tell you that the _Glutra _has a very long memory, indeed."

Narcissa drummed her fingers on the table.

"Perhaps I may be of assistance?" Severus said, stepping fully into the room.

Narcissa, much to her credit, didn't jump or cling to the chandelier like a startled Kneazle.

Granger, however, had a strange, almost preternatural calm about her.

Snape realised in that moment that he couldn't read her thoughts at all, even in a small way, when he met her eyes.

"Are you up for a bit of subterfuge, Severus?" Narcissa enquired sweetly.

Snape cracked his neck, smiling dangerously. "Oh, I _suppose _I can brush some of the dust off."

He gave Narcissa a half-lidded gaze.

"Would you like me to hold him down and pour something utterly vile down his throat to end this quickly or would you perhaps prefer something more creative with a touch of subtlety?"

"I would prefer you to help our Draco come to terms with being dosed or ensorcelled in public, Severus," Narcissa requested.

"Do you have any inclination as to why your son is suddenly so besotted with Potter's supposed fiancée?"

Snape placed a copy of the _Prophet _on the table that boldly declared:

_**Shocking Heartbreak for Heroic Man-Who-Conquered!**_

_**Dark Wizard Draco Malfoy Sets Date with Britain's Sweetheart Ginevra Weasley!**_

Hermione stiffened visibly, her lips pressing together in a thin line even as an almost-snarl seemed to visibly tug at the corners of her mouth. One shiny glass-like claw pointed to the second of two photographs, the one featuring a closeup of Ginevra Weasley's ring.

"I know that ring," she said, eyes narrowing.

Severus' expression turned frigid as his black eyes hardened. "That was Lily Evans' ring back when we were children. She said she'd found it in an old storage room at Hogwarts. A room she claimed she couldn't find again."

"The Come-and-Go Room," Hermione said slowly.

Severus nodded sharply. "I didn't know it was even a thing until I heard about it later from Albus."

Hermione's gaze darkened. "That's _kobold _workmanship," she said. "Many mistakenly believe it to be of goblin origin, but such items were greatly prized at one time because it would take to any enchantment quite easily, unlike goblin-crafted items that took days, if not weeks or months to fully enchant."

"It was one of the first things the elders taught me—recognising the difference on sight. In front of me, it would be easy to tell. The feel would be distinctive, unmistakable. But see here—" Hermione's claw traced down one side of the ring. "That's a blood-feeding groove. Much like that found on certain cursed weapons. It is made to power the ring with blood or to focus a particular spell. A spike would be carefully hidden on the top around the gem if it were designed for the latter. It would be hidden on the inside if the former, so the user could simply make a fist and bleed on it without attracting unwanted attention."

Severus' voice was scrupulously even, remarkably careful in tone. "What would happen if another person's blood fed the ring after an initial—_taste_, as it were?"

Hermione bared her teeth, her goblin heritage suddenly all too clear with the flash of many sharp fangs. "It would instantly refocus. Such rings are made to hold one enchantment. The workmanship of the _kobolds _are often very intricate in nature but quite delicate and easily overloaded. Such blood magics are often overpowering, so they take care to build in failsafes to keep the items from shattering. A blood ring certainly would be able to focus one spell. Any more, and the ring would either shatter or melt and merge with the wearer. I don't think I need to elaborate just how bad that would be if it were to do so, either way. The human body is—"

Hermione curled her lip disdainfully. "Remarkably fragile, when it comes to housing certain magical enchantments, sometimes being overly influenced by them. Goblins _can _be affected by spells to a point, but their bodies strenuously resist any other form of magical 'tampering'. For example, had Harry Potter been born a goblet instead of human, the magic that gave him his scar would have reflected back on the caster subsequently exploded with dramatic fanfare. And flames. Probably a most impressive display of pyrotechnics as well."

"So this will require more than just a potion to break the enchantment," Severus said grimly.

Hermione's lips curled up slightly. "I happen to have unlimited access to a rather startling quantity of fine curse-breakers. One of which—" She smiled darkly. "He happens to have every reason to keep his good name unsullied by family drama."

It was in that moment that Snape realised that Hermione Granger was capable of being one extremely scary individual even outside of wartime, Umbridge's history notwithstanding.

And he liked it.

A _lot_.

* * *

"We would be most happy to aid the future wife of Mr Malfoy," the wizened goblin said, reaching for his quill and ink. "If you would please present your signed prenuptial agreement as arranged in advance, sir?"

"_What_ prenuptial agreement, Draco?" Ginny asked sweetly.

Draco, his expression blissful, replied. "Nothing to worry about, my love. It is only the standard Malfoy family agreement that if—and I _know _you would never do this to me, my cherry blossom—if there is a separation for any reason, there would be a preset amount of compensation depending on if you provided me a male heir and how many long and wonderful years we had together. The standard time in Wizarding contracts. Only fifty years. That's only half our time together, I'm sure."

Ginny took his hands. "Darling, I'm sure we don't _need _such a stuffy old contract to prove our love for each other, truly."

Draco tilted his head. "No, of course not, my love. Please forego the contract."

The elder goblin sighed. "As you wish, Mr Malfoy," he said, pushing aside the large scroll and pulling out a smaller one. "If you would please sign the arranged document that we may verify that your personal accounts are all in perfect order with no liens or collections upon them that would harm the creation of your new, joined account."

Draco was already signing the parchment as Ginny touched his hands again. "Darling, is this _really _necessary?

Draco paused. "On second thought, Swordfang, just add her to my account," he said, smiling indulgently.

The elder goblin furrowed his brows. "As you wish, Mr Malfoy." He put away the previous parchment and pulled out two bottles of some sort of dark blue potion. "If you would both please imbibe the disenchantment potion so we can confirm that none of the following paperwork is being signed under undue influence of coercive magic or any other form of duress."

Draco reached for the potion. "Of course, anything to move this along faster."

"_**No!"**_ Ginny yelped, quickly reaching for Draco's hand. "Darling, who are _**they **_to tell us what is best for us!"

Draco's face instantly relaxed again. "Of course, my precious dove, this is all utter nonsense. Can we please just hurry this along, Swordfang? This is no way to treat my future bride. Surely we can fast track this somehow?"

"Well, there _is _one way—"

"We'll do it, won't we, darling?"

"Of course, my sugar plum. Make it happen, Swordfang," Draco requested.

Swordfang put away the vials of potion and cleaned off his desk. Then, he opened up one drawer, pulled out a large metallic pitcher, and promptly flung the contents all over the both of them.

Ginny jumped and screeched loudly as the "water" hit her. "What the _**hell **_was that for?!"

Draco shook his head, looking down at his sodden lap and then back up. "Ugh, my aching head," he moaned, rubbing his temples with his fingers as his pale hair dripped, sending chilly droplets running down his neck and under the collar of his grey silk robes. He squinted as he realised a shivering, furious-looking Ginny was standing there with him.

"Weaselette? Merlin's fungus-encrusted toenails," he grunted. "What are _you _doing here with me?"

_**Flash!**_

_**Flash! Flash**_!

Multiple rapid camera flashes blinded them both as the media descended upon them like hungry sharks that had scented fresh blood in the water.

_**Crack!**_

As the flashes slowly faded away, Draco Malfoy suddenly found himself cold, wet, and very much alone.

* * *

_**Gold-Digger Weasley Abandons Lovestruck Draco Malfoy at Gringotts!**_

_Draco Malfoy and Ginevra Weasley attempted to open a joint account at Gringotts today, happy to start on the first steps to a life of marital bliss. It didn't quite turn out that way, though, as series of premarital account checks put into place by the wealthy Malfoy family untold generations ago prevented the opening of any new account without a prenuptial agreement, lien on personal accounts checks, disenchantment potion, and so on. _

_If all of the previous parts were somehow circumvented, they would then take a pitcherful of the goblins' notorious Thieves' Downfall direct to the face._

_Draco Malfoy was left all alone, his tears blending with the streams of chill water, without a fiancée or even a clue as to how he'd ended up in such an unfortunate situation._

_The question remains: Did Ginevra Weasley leave him because there were too many hurdles to their relationship, or was she a mere gold-digging strumpet all along?_

_[Ginevra Weasley was unable to be reached for comment by the time of this publication.]_

* * *

Draco finished his last twenty glasses of Chocolicious Mudslide with barely a breath in-between, collapsing into a plush lounge chair with a groan of pain.

"Granger, if I even look at the Weaselette for longer than it takes to look away, I want you to personally _Imperio _me to leave the vicinity immediately."

Severus raised a brow. "Do you even remember running into her?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I _do _remember this really mental absolute devotion to her, though. She was the one—or so I thought. When I first came out of it, I couldn't even remember what I was doing at Gringotts. Then it all started coming back slowly—well, the part about remembering how very badly I wanted her for my wife."

Hermione shook her head as she sent the accumulation of drink glasses to the back to be washed. "You don't ever do anything small, do you, Draco?"

Draco sniffed. "It wasn't like I just woke up that morning thinking, 'Self, you need to go get your arse married'."

Hermione shrugged. "You've had odder ideas."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, but I was _ten_."

"Using accidental, wandless magic to enlarge your father's peacocks so you could ride birdback was probably one of your more interesting childhood antics," Hermione said with a laugh.

"Oh, there are _so _many more," Lucius said with a sniff.

Draco shot his father a death-glare that merely bounced off of Lucius' flawless complexion and withered a lovely singing peace-fern. The unfortunate plant made a sad, sorrowful wheeze as it wilted and drooped over. The small magical doves that flew around it fell out of the air and flopped on the table in their own death throes.

Draco managed to look utterly horrified. "Gods, that was mum's favourite singing peace-fern!" he cried, rushing over to try and save it by whatever means necessary. "It takes two whole decades just to reach the point of forming doves and an additional two to _sing—_"

Draco looked at his father with desperation then at Severus. Both wizards shook their head at him.

"Plants were always your mother's area of expertise," Lucius said.

Severus shook his head in negative as he stepped back. "I chop plants into tiny slivers for potion ingredients, I do not rescue them from poorly aimed spells."

Draco seemed to wilt in misery as he cradled the innocent victim of his accidental magic.

Hermione's hands reached out to cover Draco's, and she guided them around the plant's base. She traced a complex rune on his palms, one-by-one, the sharp point scratching into his skin just enough to make the skin flush red but not enough to draw blood. She pressed his hands against the bone china pot as she whispered something in Gobbledegook.

A stream of goblin magic seemed to dance from her mouth and around the plant as Draco's hands began to glow.

The plant shuddered as the fibres of its leaves mended, water returned to the withered leaves, and the stalk shuddered and stood back up. Tiny pearl-sized eggs of magic hatched from the leaves as miniature doves took to the air once more and the plant seemed to take in a deep breath before singing a happy, inspiring tune—

Just before a strange pod on a stalk sprouted from the middle of the plant, opened a toothy maw, and chomped Draco right on the nose.

"_**Ow!" **_cried Draco, clutching his nose as he pulled away. "I'm _**sorry**_, okay!? I didn't _**mean **_to wither you!"

If plants could glare, the singing fern was doing its best attempt as a halo of magical doves formed around its crown of leafy furls.

"I didn't know you could do _that_," Severus whispered in wonder.

Hermione tilted her head. Goblins are both earth shapers and earth whisperers. If it lives under or in the ground, we must treat it with care. The magic is goblin, wandless, and—" She frowned, trying to find the word. "_Cevik_."

"Sah-vick?" Severus slowly repeated the foreign word.

"It means—" Hermione tilted her head. "Gift of the Earth, but it implies more. We can guide the magic into another's hands, but only a goblin can trigger it, like most of the wards and traps inside Gringotts."

Severus, fascinated, loosed the question that had been bothering him since finding out Hermione had been assimilated by the Goblin Nation. "Why is it that Filius never demonstrated such talents?"

Hermione stiffened visibly, and Severus realised he had inadvertently stumbled nose-first into something considered taboo or at the very least uncomfortable subject matter.

"Professor Flitwick renounced the Goblin Nation in order to wield a wand, choosing to place his human heritage above the _Glutra_." Hermione's ears twitched. "He is a master of human magic and dueling, but he is _Gaz'kiar. _Deaf to the Earth."

Severus had a suspicion that Hermione meant more than just deaf to the Earth. "I get the feeling there is rather more to it than just that."

Hermione sighed. "It is a title given to those who have either been born with goblin blood or gone through the rite of passage and then turned their back upon the Nation. In all manners, he is treated as a human—only even less so."

Hermione cracked her neck to the side as the bones set in place. "To his credit, he was and is a brilliant individual who is a great teacher and a most experienced magic-wielder, but he would rather ignore his heritage and push it under the rug. While he has never, to my knowledge, actually insulted the Nation in public, the fact that he pays no respects to the elders is a bit of an insult in itself."

"How exactly _does _one pay respect to a goblin elder?" Severus asked.

Hermione flashed her pointed teeth in what seemed like a grimace.

"Allow them to manage your finances."

Severus startled. "Would it not be more independant to manage your own?"

"Assuredly," Hermione replied. "But it takes a long time to master goblin finance on the level that the elders do. It makes human banking investments look primitive and uncomplicated."

"How long _is _a long time?"

Hermione flashed her fangs again. "Hundreds of years."

"_What?"_

Hermione chuckled. "Goblins live a very long time once they have fully matured. It is part of the gift of the Earth. They can still be killed, of course, but their lifespan is—well, let's just say there is a reason why goblins hold long grudges."

Snape seemed to take a bit more time to digest the revelations. "Would he ever be accepted again?" His voice held a strange note to it that spoke of many cold rejections, grave errors of judgment, and the lingering pain of regret. "You haven't exactly broadcast your heritage to the public. What makes _you _any different?"

Bitterness filled his tone, anger. Lucius and Draco shot him a quelling look, but Snape's emotion was much too raw— too personal.

Hermione frowned as she straightened her back. "I always pay proper respect to my elders," she said, her voice now devoid of the warmth and tolerance she had demonstrated previously. "I cater to my people as well as those outside the _Glutra_. My profits go back to the elders to manage while the interest goes into maintaining our housing facilities, some of which Gringotts' non-goblin employees can also use, entirely free of charge. I pay my dues and licencing fees to the Ministry without complaint. It _is _possible to live in both worlds and yet not cause the kind of unnecessary drama that announces my private, personal affairs to all and sundry while still being part of the _Glutra._"

"So you think since Filius Flitwick won't pay his bloody taxes to the goblins so he can claim to be a card-carrying member that he's some kind of worthless scum? How is that any better than being called _filthy _because of your blood over something you can't even help? Maybe his parents weren't as inspired as he is. Maybe he was tired of being judged as a goblin for a hundred _other _reasons. Maybe he needed help and they didn't come sweeping in with their good graces because _he _wasn't some post-war hero who couldn't even get an apprenticeship and was the perfect little social experiment to wrap someone with influence around their thumbs with your Gryffindor gratitude."

Lucius paled, looking utterly horrified as Draco's jaw dropped in shock at the sheer amount of venom in Snape's voice.

Hermione stood up ramrod straight, no longer keeping herself in a carefully neutral stance. For a moment she seemed almost-feral, her eyes as wild and alien as that of a formidable great beast whose dinner had escaped a few too many times and whose territory was being invaded by a would-be interloper. Her face suddenly mirrored the same dour scowl worn by every Gringotts goblin.

"Thank you, Draco, Lord Malfoy," Hermione said stonily, with barely any inflection to her voice. "Should you require any further assistance from this one, you may speak to Elder Grissnak." Her voice changed over to a strange, heavily-accented English that seemed more like the grinding of rusty gears to human ears rather than a smooth, melodious language.

"Good day," she said, her lips pressed in a flat line, barely even moving.

With that, she was suddenly gone, the bell tinkling merrily as the door closed in her wake.

Draco slammed in the door and then remembered he had to open it, disappearing out the sun-framed portal yelling, "Hermione, _**wait!"**_

Lucius' well-manicured fingers clenched tightly around his cane as he scowled at his longtime friend.

"I don't what you think you are playing at, Severus, and frankly, I don't really _care_. You know well enough to keep a civil tone with our business clients, and you also know Miss Granger had a great deal to do with keeping the Malfoy family from landing tits up on the wrong end of a hippogriff's arse. She's more than proven herself both to Draco and to me. Narcissa finds her company far more than merely tolerable, and you know very well just how particular Narcissa is about her choice of company."

Severus seemed to silently seethe under a dark stormcloud of his own making before he swept from the room, slamming the front door so forcibly that chime flew off the hook and clattered to the ground. Each bounce deformed the chime, and it ended its function as a bell with a sad, dull tink.

Lucius' eyelid twitched as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Idiot."

* * *

End of Chapter One

* * *

**A/N: **_One-shot getting too long. Had to cut it in half. More tomorrow-ish. Have to work back to back 12s, so apologies there._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Happy Mother's Day!**

**Beta Love: **The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

* * *

**Goblin Gratitude**

Chapter Two

_Love is whatever you can still betray. _

_Betrayal can only happen if you love._

John le Carre

* * *

"You actually—" Bill rubbed his temples. "Do you have _any _idea what it's like to make an enemy out of the Goblin Nation?"

"I did not pick a fight with the goblins."

"No, you great sodding idiot, instead you went and bloody accused one of the most high-profile goblins of them all of manipulating Hermione Granger into allowing herself to be adopted out of misplaced guilt and some twisted sense of debt and-or obligation."

"Do you have _any _idea just how respected and dearly cherished our Hermione is in the _Glu—_Nation?" Bill asked, rubbing his head. "She is their most beloved success story— a human witch who ultimately chose the goblin way."

"I've _always _had supposed enemies," Snape growled.

"Not like the Goblin Nation."

"You think Granger will just run back home and _cry_?"

Bill narrowed his blue eyes at the older wizard. She won't have to say a ruddy thing, Severus. Doors will close against you. Opportunities will disappear overnight. You won't be able to bank anywhere, and I do mean _any_where, goblin or Muggle. How far do you think your apothecary business will go if you have to hide your profits under the floorboards? How will you manage to finalise business contracts without a financial backer?"

Snape scowled at him, but Bill was no longer a young boy intimidated by fierce glares.

"Look," Snape snapped. "I'm not asking for your help, Weasley."

"You should be," Bill said, his fingers running around the scar on his face. "She was nothing but polite to you, and you threw it right back in her face."

"I didn't ask her to be."

"No one should have to ask for simple kindness, but you got it from a goblin, Severus. Others will watch her very carefully to decide how to treat you, and she won't have to say a single word. She will simply turn the other cheek."

"If you're such a ruddy expert on the subject, then why haven't _you _gone goblin?"

Bill startled and then laughed out loud, sobering himself quickly. "I wasn't good enough. I had a family to think about, and I like the job I have. If I did succeed, family is expected to agree together. I couldn't ask my Fleur for such a thing, and our children are far too young to make such life-altering decisions. Honestly, I'm good with being a curse-breaker for them. I'm good with the goblins being my bosses. I don't want or need to join the Nation completely to embrace my own little family. I'm perfectly okay with being away from my parents and siblings since they made the choice to shun my wife. Mum basically informed me that I had to choose between the Weasley family or that, and I quote, "brain-sucking French trollop". Oh, she helped arrange the wedding and all but she didn't truly support it, and when she realised I wasn't going to jilt her and Fleur wasn't going to dump me at the altar, things stayed disgruntledly civil, at least until the war was over. Then— she started to insinuate that with YKW dead, I didn't _need _to stay married to Fleur anymore. Fred's death made her a bit mad, I think. She would see Fred everywhere. People attempted to placate her, stepping on eggshells around her, and she came to expect it. I wouldn't, and she couldn't handle it. Fleur and I left— and then she started harassing Ron and Hermione to make her grandchildren. _Real _grandchildren."

Bill scowled, his fist clenching. "You have _no _idea what my brother and her supposed best friend did to her when she went up to the goblins to repay what she could towards the damages to Gringotts after they escaped on a dragon. She had no one at her back, and the few who did try were ostracised even more. Kingsley tried to keep her employed at the Ministry, but when he was driven out by the Potter-Weasley bloc and accepted Minerva's offer to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts—"

Bill trailed off. "She was blocked by every single agency in the Ministry because Harry Potter was a top Auror and media darling. Of course, my sodding _bother _of a baby brother was right there at his side to tell everyone all about what a frigid little cocktease Hermione was. Wasn't long before there was no master willing take her on as an apprentice, not wanting to sully their reputation with her infamy and drama. She'd gone and kissed a pureblood wizard and then run away from a perfectly acceptable marriage and all, you see. Of course, since my idiot brother wasn't happy, Harry wasn't happy, and with both of _them _unhappy, my mother was ultimately even more unhappy."

Bill's scarred face twisted into a grim expression as his brows furrowed and his lips tightened. "Hermione had Obliviated her Muggle parents to protect them from the war. She sent them away to Australia for their own safety. She had no connections left, and her one-time friends all turned away from her because if Harry Potter didn't support her, then none of them dared to go against him and his reputation as the almighty hero, the Man-Who-Conquered."

"Minerva tried to hire her, but the Board of Governors wouldn't even hear of it. They didn't want an infamous Muggleborn harlot as a teacher."

"When no one else would have her, the goblins stepped up, took her in, offered her a new life, a career— a family. She accepted. She apprenticed with them. She learned the language. The goblin ways. She found a home and solidarity with a people who knew all about betrayal at the hands of the Wizarding world."

"You didn't just insult her, Severus," Bill explained, his blue eyes very serious. "You insulted her family. Her chosen people. The people who had helped her up and made her strong again. I don't even know all of what you said to her, but I know that if she went all formal on you, then she was truly insulted. That kind of thing amongst goblins never ends well."

"How is that any different from having anyone insulted by me?" Severus said darkly. "People have been insulted by me for entire generations, if you would believe the word of mouth."

Bill sighed. "Goblins are a people of the Earth, Severus. The Earth itself responds to them. They don't even have to do anything with active intent, and the very ground can rise up to trip you at the worst possible moment. It can erode a building's foundation and let rodents and other undesirable critters into your domicile. It can become impenetrable for no explicable reason. Homes can be covered entirely in ivy overnight. Gnomes suddenly infest your garden in droves. You can bet that my baby brother and his best mate are still suffering— subtly. Minor things. Completely natural, yet terribly karmatic in nature."

"Draco may punish Ginevra through family influence and guile, but a goblin doesn't have to. They hold a grudge, yes, but understand, that is _all _they need to do."

Severus shook his head. "I've heard quite enough goblin propaganda for today, Mr Weasley," he said, his dark eyes flashing. "If Granger is even half as forgiving as she wants everyone to believe, then she can get off her high horse and start judging herself with the same eyes."

The potions master stood, slamming coins on the table to pay for the food and beverages before storming out of the Leaky. "I don't appreciate being lectured after an alleged invite to lunch. I will pay for myself."

Bill slumped as Severus disappeared, shaking his head. He placed his coins on the table to cover his meal and walked out.

Meanwhile, a certain beetle crawled out of the tiny vase of silk rosebuds on the table and flew off.

* * *

_**Shamed Floozy Granger Dupes Goblin Nation Into Taking Her In**_

_**To Escape Justice of Harry Potter and the Depressed, Jilted, and Tormented Ronald Weasley Who Only Wanted to Start a Family With Her**_

_Oh, do I have a story for you, faithful readers. I, Rita Skeeter, have been dutifully digging up the truth to bring you the very latest news on the current activities of that cheap Muggleborn floozy, Hermione Granger. _

_Not only did she spread her legs for, kiss and then run away from the honourable Auror Ronald Weasley shortly after the war and then shame her supposed best mates in front of the goblins by bringing unproven debts to Gringotts' goblins, but she has apparently deceived an entire nation of goblins into pitying her and taking her in once her wizarding work opportunities dried up and went away._

_Having used up her supposed friends, soaking up the last few drops of their attempts to be good, forgiving, kind-hearted individuals, she turned her sights upon the poor goblins who had been hoodwinked by her willingness to pay for some made-up damages._

_Later, she even accused the heroic Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley of shamefully ignoring their own share of those self-same, imaginary debts._

_Ronald Weasley, who had been slaving away tirelessly to save his poor, destitute parents from financial ruin after having lost their house during the war and having to pay for the burial of their son, Fred Weasley, hardly had enough to pay for his own food. He was forced to eat mashed turnips and crusted, hard bread so his loving parents would be able to eat well._

_Yet that shameless little tart, Hermione Granger, would demand that this overworked, heroic Auror fork over even more money to pay for an event that never happened. Everyone knows that Gringotts deepest vaults are guarded by the most formidable magic as well as dragons. No mere children would have been able to break the defences of a veritable fortress like Gringotts._

_No, and now Hermione Granger would fool an entire goblin nation into thinking she's one of their own. But to what end other than the obvious financial benefits? Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to find out, my rabid readers._

_If anyone deserves to be reprimanded and have her ridiculously overpriced drink business shut down it would be Hermione Granger, breaker of innocent hearts and manipulator of the goblin nation._

_Maybe the goblins will stuff her into one of their deepest vaults and force her to live out the remainder of her life in solitary darkness for daring to deceive them._

_We can only hope._

* * *

Rita smiled with cruel satisfaction as she waited impatiently for the drama to unfold. _Keep __**me **__in a jam jar, will you? I'll show you, missy._

She couldn't have asked for better when a visibly angry Snape sat down with that Weasley pariah, Bill. Snape was always good for inciting a rage-filled outpouring that made the tabloids simmer and quake.

He deserved it too after having taken care to ward his business so thoroughly and denying every single request for an interview.

Ronald Weasley was such an easy one to manipulate. Put a little food and drink in front of him, and he'd tell you everything. His finances or lack thereof, his need for a good wholesome woman with wide, child-bearing hips and a nice arse, how "his 'Mione" had left him when all he wanted was a nice big family and someone to take care of his Quidditch team of children— he wanted seven at least.

Rita twitched at the thought, a fine shudder running down her spine. Weren't there enough bloody Weasleys in the world already?

Why weren't _they _stricken with the same difficulties in producing viable offspring like all the other pureblood families?

Rita shuddered again. Ugh.

She itched her legs with opposing feet. Why was she so _itchy _all of a sudden?

Ever since she had gone to Gringotts to fill a sack of galleons for her next greasing of the cogs, it seemed like she couldn't get rid of the damnable itch.

Worse, the itch began to spread like wildfire after she spied on Snape's place and even more when she scuttled around the Ministry listening for titbits of gossip and potential news fodder— like Ginevra Weasley being pregnant again and the Man-Who-Conquered worrying about being able to afford the cost of another child. Still, that bit of news made for even more gossip, which always made her happy.

_**Man-Who-Conquered Destitute With Another Child On The Way!**_

Oh, but she made damn sure that Granger chit was blamed for it. Damn that witch, anyway. She deserved as much pain and suffering as possible!

_Damn _this itch!

She rubbed her legs with her opposing foot then switched back and forth.

"Perfect weather for fungus growth, I'm afraid," the Longbottom idiot said, poking one of the plant pods. It then opened up and sneezed directly in his face.

"Oh dear," he said sympathetically, patting it with a hanky. The pod drooped, seemingly miserable.

The plant-lover— gods, how Rita _hated _that lot and their quirky little tree-hugging ways—had been a bust for delicious drama all day. He's just poked his stupid plants like they actually gave a flying fig what he had to say.

Psh.

He was almost as stupidly boring as that insufferable Lovegood bint.

Rita thought they made a _great _pair— for being deadly boring.

The both of them were already nuts. There was just no getting a rise out of the terminally idiotic and boring.

After Rita's last adventure wrapping up Xenophilius Lovegood in a nice, juicy scandal involving how he almost got the Boy-Who-Lived killed and thus the entire Wizarding world as well, she'd very neatly caused the Quibbler to fold and sent Xeno running off to Norway to find Funklepron Horksacks or whatever the hell he called them.

Luna, that barmy daughter of his, of course, was far too worried about her doddering fool of a father to even bother challenging Rita's scurrilous claims. She just up and folded— no drama, no fun at _all_.

At least by the time Rita had done her level best to ensure that little Granger witch was the most reviled un-hero of the Wizarding war, neither Longbottom nor Lovegood had dared come forward to defend her lest they lose their teaching positions at the school and the last shreds of their credibility as well.

As for that mangy old cat, McGonagall—

Rita smirked.

McGonagall should never had told her that she didn't possess sufficient self-restraint to be a proper Animagus.

Well, now she'd be stuck in her cat form until it stopped being funny— and Rita knew it would never stop being funny.

That doctored nip had been the stuffy old cat's end, and her sudden absence had been quickly filled by Filius Flitwick—

And now she had dirt on him, too.

Really, really good dirt.

If she didn't get _exactly _what she wanted from him, she'd be sure to plaster Flitwick's dirty laundry all over the rag. She might even put some in the Muggle press too but with a different accusation—twisted just so to avoid violating the Statute of Secrecy.

Rita flew out of the greenhouse and up towards the Headmaster's office. She zipped past the open window and squeezed herself onto a convenient bookshelf hidey-hole.

She itched her legs frantically, making a rather loud buzzing sound.

Flitwick looked up from his desk, eyes narrowing sharply.

Rita held very still.

_**Bzz-bzzzz.**_

Damnit!

Stupid legs. She hadn't told them to move!

She shoved herself hard against the back of the bookcase, out of sight. She shoved her back legs between the pages of the book to muffle their movements.

Flitwick climbed a stair to carefully peer around the shelf.

_**Bzzzz Bzzzz.**_

Damnit!

Flitwick stared and brought his wand up, casting a quick, "_Lumos!"_

_**Thump. Thump. .**_

Heavy footfalls approached the office from the stairway.

"I'm here, Mister Headmaster, sir," Hagrid bellowed.

Flitwick, startled, stared toward the door. "Hello, Hagrid. I didn't expect you until later this afternoon."

"Oh!" Hagrid sputtered. "Yes, well I, er—" The half-giant trailed off. "

Filius hopped off the small stairs and approached. "What is it, Hagrid?"

"We, well, I mean Hogwarts, sir," Hagrid trailed off.

"Do spit it out, Hagrid," Filius said.

"Well, it's the thestrals, Headmaster," Hagrid muttered. "They be needing their potions sir. They're in right a sorry state. They're gaining weight something awful, and they are sprouting fur too."

Filius blinked and stared silently.

"It's not natural, Headmaster," Hagrid insisted stubbornly.

"So— they are starting to look more like horses instead of emaciated, skin-taut creatures?"

"You 'aff to see' em, Sir," Hagrid said. "They are all mulling about— eatin' _**grass**_ like some kind of ruddy Muggle horse! It's not right, see? It's jus' not _**natural!**_ They're so sick, sir. People can see 'em aye? They can _**see**_ them!"

Hagrid made a face. "They need their potions before they start gettin' all cuddly and unnatural-like."

"Why haven't you simply gotten the potion as you have in years past? And what potion _is _this, specifically?"

"Uh, well, er. It don't really haff a name as much as they just know which one to give me," Hagrid said, shifting uncomfortably.

Filius frowned. "What is stopping you from just getting it as you have so many other times before?"

"Well, er—" Hagrid said, scratching himself as he looked skyward. "Headmaster Dumbledore 'ad a contract wi' them, ye see, sir. It's made in India and the only ones that can bring it over 'ere are, well you see, I mean, it might be—"

Flitwick finally snapped, "Just _**say **_it, Hagrid!"

"I haff to get it from the goblins, Sir," Hagrid blurted. "They said the contract must be signed by the current 'eadmaster, and the price paid as per the agreement."

"And what is this price, Hagrid?"

"Well, Headmaster Dumbledore—"

"What _was _the price, Hagrid?"

Hagrid turned a several different interesting colours as he tried to put the price into words but then tried in vain to hold back what he came up with. "Well, it changes with every new 'eadmaster, sir—"

"_**Hagrid!"**_ Filius yelled.

"The headmaster promises a favour is all," Hagrid blurted. "Just one, yeah? Nothing too har—"

"No," Filius said firmly.

"But, the thestrals!"

"Nothing is worth signing a contract with the Goblin Nation for a favour that is not detailed in writing."

"But the thestrals!" Hagrid cried.

"You're in charge of Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid," Filius said sternly. "Find another way to get your potion."

"But, surely you might have an in to—"

Filius scowled. "_**No!"**_ he said, his squeaky voice managing to become downright shrill.

The bookshelves shook violently as the wave of Filius' anger-induced magical flare caused the globe to tip over and a few books to tumble off the shelves.

"It's the thestrals' job to pull the carriages!"

"Can they still pull a carriage?"

"Well, yes, er, technically—"

"Then they are still able to work. Are they eating?"

"Grass."

"So they are eating."

"Well, yes, but—"

"Are they harming the children in any way?"

"Well, no, but they're downright cuddly with the—"

"Then there is nothing life-threatening that has to be dealt with now, Hagrid," Flitwick concluded.

"Thestrals aren't supposed to look or act cuddly! It just ain't right!"

"Are they _happy_, Hagrid?"

"I'm telling you, it ain't right how happy they are acting!"

"So you have perfectly happy thestrals who are gaining weight and being seen by students, getting along with them, making themselves and children happy, and you want me to support making them mopey again, colder, and invisible?"

"_**Yes!"**_ Hagrid agreed instantly, but regretted it when Flitwick's narrowed eyes seemed to burn into him like a Muggle blowtorch.

"I'll contact some of my colleagues at the Ministry to see if they have ever heard of this… malady, Hagrid. I've never even heard of this particular problem before."

"No, I'll take care of it, sir," Hagrid said in a rush, muttering under his breath as he fled out the office door, smacking his head hard into the door frame. He shook his shaggy head, stunned, and then continued back down the stairs.

Flitwick scowled and started to clean up his disheveled bookshelves only to notice a bright chartreuse beetle crawling up the stalk of his singing orchid plant before clamping onto the base of the largest flower. It dangled there, all of its legs making a strange, jerking, slowing wriggle.

Flitwick pointed his wand at the odd-looking beetle. "And what, may I ask, are you?"

_**Bzzzz. Bzzzz.**_

The beetle seemed frantic, but even while its wriggled out of control as if to free itself, its mandibles remained clamped tightly to the base of the flower.

Then Filius spotted distinctive spectacle-shaped markings on the beetle's head.

He leveled his wand at the insect as his lips pressed into a thin, straight line.

* * *

**Interdepartmental Memo**

From: Healer Pachenko

Re: Rita Skeeter, severe cordyceps infestation due to Animagus form

Please be aware that personal protection shields and disposable robes must be worn at all times when making contact for treatment and assessment of the progress of Ms Skeeter.

While we know the cordyceps fungus is specific to her species of beetle, we do not wish to contaminate or spread the fungus outside her containment room due to the virulence of the infection.

At this point, no further spread of the fungus body has been detected beyond the point when she was last forcibly reverted into a human state, but every time she attempts to escape using her beetle form, the fungus grows swiftly and she is forced to find the highest nearby plant and grasp onto it.

Ms Skeeter shows no signs of fungus growth or the release of neurologically altering chemical control while she remains in her human form.

She does, however, continue to experience a number of random seizures of varying severity on a daily basis that have neither been relieved nor exacerbated by any treatment protocol we have managed to devise thus far.

The strangest side-effect to these seizures is a startling chain of shocking confessions from as early as her childhood, school years, from her young adulthood up to the present. Strangely, they all seem to involve herself at the center of it, and (so far at least) they have all checked out.

A scribe has been assigned to her case courtesy of the DMLE to record the astonishing litany of crimes she has been confessing to. As of yet there seems to be pressure from the DMLE to release Ms Skeeter to their care, but we cannot do so due to her possibly fragile situation.

Head Auror Potter seems to think Ms Skeeter has some information crucial to a case, but I will not release a patient until I am sure they are able to function outside the hospital without bringing harm to themselves— wittingly or no.

* * *

Hermione pulled off her protective robes, mask, and gloves before heading for the decontamination shower. The warm water loosened her stiff muscles and washed away any residual plant residue that may have clung to her body.

The vault she had been tending to belonged to none other than Neville Longbottom, and he stored a very interesting collection of odd fungi and rare magical plants within the humble walls.

The old Hermione might have found it hard to separate work and personal feelings, at least when it came to Neville and Luna— both having stood on the side of those who chose to shun her when she had been so desperate to find support on her quest for an apprenticeship.

Sure, she knew now that Rita had done her best to encourage it and had succeeded, but it all came down to she she had desperately needed support and friendship, her supposed friends had turned the other cheek.

The old Hermione would not have been able to cope, but goblin Hermione had an extra helpful of ruthless detachment combined with the ability to hold a grudge with interest.

The irony was, Neville's plants would never grow in his greenhouses— only in the goblin-maintained vaults. The climate was perfect, and had experimental plant breeding he was working on would only thrive with goblin-tending.

Of course, Neville had _no _idea she was well and truly a goblin, nor would he have believed it even if he read it. The latest drivel from the Prophet had proven that even when faced with the simple truth, no one in the Wizarding world cared to believe someone could really be transformed into a goblin. Impersonate one? Possibly. Actually convert? Not hardly.

Now, Neville paid handsomely every month for the very specific climate controls in his vault, quite unknowing of goblin's affinity for earthen foliage and fauna. All he knew was that if he tried to take the plants out of his vault, they would quickly shrivel and die, so he was forced to pay for the stewardship.

The vault bats on her shoulders squeaked and allowed her to soap them off, patting them down with a soft spidersilk towel so they could return to her hair. They, too, helped tend to the vaults, but in Neville's case they did less watching over and more, well, pooping for profit.

Vault bats apparently made the best fertilising guano unknown to the outside world.

The vault bats had been her first friends when she started helping repair the damage she'd done while breaking out of Gringotts on dragonback. Grissnak said it had been the first sign that she was capable of adopting their ways as the vault bats were choosy about who they helped and allowed to handle them without getting a distinctively painful, purulent and even septic bite— the kind of bite that made a komodo dragon bite look like a small, insignificant thing.

Hermione wasn't sure if that was just Grissnak reading something into coincidence, but she did have to admit that vault bats were damn useful and pretty adorable to boot.

Being a goblin allowed her to hear their squeaky language too, which wasn't too bad of a benefit either.

Once the bats had judged her a-okay for friendship, then the vault spiders had crawled out to befriend her too— forgetting, of course, that just sauntering up to someone new could be somewhat hazardous for those of their kind.

After a freaked-out Hermione had slammed a pail over a number of them as she fled screaming out of the vault, her goblin father had laughed uproariously and dragged her back into the vault to meet one of their main vault-tenders. The bats managed to look a little sheepish at having not warned her sooner.

One particularly cheeky spider took to wearing a miniature pail over his head in remembrance of having almost been brained by a frantic, startled witch.

Hermione hadn't been able to live _that _down for months.

Hermione smiled viciously, her sharp teeth showing in a moment of pure malice. There was a certain special karma in having permitted a clueless Rita to ride one of the other goblins down into the vault to do some spying and trampling through Neville's delightful little fungal biosphere in the process.

Neville hadn't paid for anti-Animagus wards on his vault. Who, he reasoned, would dare brave Gringotts just to steal a bit of fungus?

It wasn't the goblins' fault when someone wanted something specific but didn't want to pay extra for another service.

Was it really Hermione's or any goblin's fault for not having stripped down and frisked each other before going into low security vault on the upper levels? Sure they were all underground, and they were all secure from standard intruders, but every level had different set of protections.

It was odd, Hermione realised, that Rita had done herself in not even a day or two out from publishing her latest little smear campaign.

Karma was, she realised, alive and well, even when she'd thought otherwise after having been treated so poorly after the war.

Well, she figured, not so much poorly but certainly unfairly.

Harry had gotten on a fast track to Auror management. Ron had become some hoity-toity strategist at the Ministry. But Hermione—

She, however, couldn't even get her apprenticeship for potions or even a post as a teacher at Hogwarts.

Minerva had suffered an unfortunate mishap that had seen removed her from Hogwarts, no one at the Ministry wanted to sponsor her thanks to Rita's malicious smear campaign, both Harry and Ron were royally brassed off at her for having dared to insist that they all help rebuild Gringotts with her, and Neville and Luna's one-time offer to help her fell on deaf ears after Luna's father, Xenophilius, was forced to flee from Britain for reasons as yet unknown to her.

Part of her was curious, but the more practical and pragmatic goblin side of her didn't care for reasons, only results.

She realised the younger Hermione always wanted reasons. She spouted book facts with the same fervor of the hand-waving swot she had been since she'd first been introduced to the library.

War had transformed ideals into harsh reality.

Her inability to get an apprenticeship without her N.E.W.T.s thanks to Rita Skeeter focusing on how "unfair" it was for "Hermione Granger cheating the system to get an apprenticeship" with a free pass on education after being a war criminal turned heroine.

Skeeter had painted her a single-handed mastermind in breaking out of Gringotts on a dragon, trying to shame her best mates into paying restitution for her crimes— the list went on and on.

The public gobbled it all up, too.

They didn't want to believe the hero, Harry Potter and his loyal sidekick slash dutiful best mate could or would break into a bank, after all. Better to blame the Muggleborn witch who was always so annoying anyway. Surely it was true since Ronald gave such a "great" interview saying how annoying she was. Harry, of course, couldn't not stand by his best mate and get him caught in any kind of lie— not and endanger his loving adopted family in the Weasleys and the love of one Ginevra Weasley, who loved the spotlight, the attention, and—

The money.

The Orders of Merlin, the rewards, the publicity—

Ginny ate it up.

And Ginny had made it very clear that she valued that over any supposed loyalties to Hermione.

"_Well, it's not like I know anyone to help you, Hermione. If you really want to apprentice, maybe some other master from a different country will take you. Then you could travel." _

"_I don't want to travel!"_

"_Well, don't look at me!" Ginny protested. "Why not settle down and work for the Ministry?" _

"_I don't want to work in the Ministry, Ginny, I want to apprentice under a master and get my mastery!"_

"_I don't see why it's such a big deal! Just go get a job like anyone else! Don't expect Harry to help you after that stupid stunt asking him to help repay the goblins, either. Mum is really mad at you about that, dragging Harry and Ron into debt like that." _

"_We broke through about twenty floors of living areas, the main floor of the bank and the roof, Ginny!" Hermione had protested. "I'm not even saying financially, if they would only just help rebuild what we—" _

"_Just stop, Hermione," Ginny said, rudely dismissing her._

Hermione cracked her neck at the memory, one pointed ear flicking. There was a reason, she supposed, why she didn't have Sunday lunches at the Burrow anymore— not that she was ever really welcome, not like Harry.

Harry had chosen his surrogate family and future family. Ron had wanted as many kids as—correction at least more kids than—his brothers and sister.

Goblins _did _love their goblets— the goblin children, not the drinking vessels, though she supposed they loved those too to a certain extent— but a goblin didn't want their own personal Quidditch team of children. Goblets were raised by the community as a whole, neighbours and family often exchanged parental duties. When she had been adopted, she hadn't just gained a few members of a family. She'd gained so much more.

She had a long time in which to plan a family, and she had time to decide on the right person.

Hermione cricked her neck. Probably _not _likely to happen anytime soon, she figured. The only one she found any interest in at all was most definitely not interested in her. He didn't even know she had any interest in him, either. Perhaps, when she thought about it, she was better off alone, without such fantasies of someone with whom she could share her complicated life— of someone who could accept both her and her affection.

But first things first, she reasoned.

She had vaults to maintain and seal.

The trip to vault 687 was, as usual, uneventful. Every month the Aurory sent a team to check on the status of the vault, and every month, the goblins complied with the stipulation that nothing at all be touched let something unfortunate, unforeseen and irreversible happen.

They were allowed to count every coin with whatever magic they chose, but if anything was removed or touched, the magic of the vault would swallow them, locking them within until the next month.

Harry had sent his chosen people there in his stead, hoping that perhaps they could access what he could not, but goblins were _very _specific about Auror-accessed vaults. Nothing could be removed without an exhaustive paper trail and official Wizengamot warrant. To do otherwise would mean breach contract, and no goblin would bother to raise a finger to stop the activation of the vault-protective magic should such a thing go unheeded.

Hermione had watched impassively the first time vault 687 had devoured the Aurors. The rules had been more than clear.

She wondered how she had managed to avoid such magic in breaking into the Lestrange vault in the first place and then realised that some of the older magical families _despised _goblin magic and wanted as little as possible on their vaults, believing that a dragon was, at its worst, far more of a deterrent than anything else.

Since Hermione had been adopted, however, all the vaults had been protected by goblin-earth-magic.

Even the Potter vault.

Perhaps, _especially _the Potter vault.

She could always tell the experienced Aurors who kept their hands to themselves no matter what their orders had been. Aurors Savage and Proudfoot had always performed their assigned tasks dutifully and respectfully. They had always treated her with utmost respect, too. They touched nothing, recorded that nothing had changed, and simply left.

It was the younger, rookies that she had always _tried _to warn—

Most people knew that attempting to run their finger along the doors like a goblin would get them nowhere if not dead— but few knew that the protections extended well into the vault itself.

Most of them, anyway.

The higher vaults, well known for their smallness and lack of zealous protection, no one usually tried to break into anyway because they just weren't worth it. If you were going to be frankly suicidal enough attempt to rob Gringotts, you weren't going to break into the small vaults with a only a few galleons to be had.

The sole exception was the vault of one Weasley family (sans that of William and his wife, Fleur). The Weasley vault had been sealed as thoroughly as the lowermost vaults after the war after Ronald had made a public outcry that he didn't owe the goblins a damn thing. His and any vault connected to those who would willingly support him was sealed, officially waiting for restitution for his share of the damages resulting from their destructive exit of Gringotts on dragonback. .

Bill and Fleur, however, knew better than to siphon money to their estranged family. Bill was a Gringotts curse-breaker and knew goblin ways all too well to even contemplate such foolishness.

Honestly, she thought, what the goblins had wanted (at least back then) was simply a helping hand repairing the damage. Money was more a token to them and even unnecessary. And while Hermione had worked many long hours helping move and set stone with her magic (being uninitiated into earth-magic at the time) her best mates had chosen instead to party and celebrate the end of the war.

She'd managed to befriend the vault bats though, and that had impressed the goblins enough to set her fate into motion.

Her most cuddly vault-bat chittered into her ear, sensing they were being thought of. The bats could fit into a sliver of a crevice in rock and spy on the insides of vaults, alerting goblins of shifts in magic and air as well as earth. They preferred, however, to snuggle into the warm necks of their favourite goblins, share their space, and assist with their day-to-day tasks.

The biggest change for Hermione was never feeling alone when below the surface. The earthen magic was warm and full of life, and she wondered often how she had not sensed its power before. It's warmth and comfort was so obvious to her now that she was a part of the _glutra_ that the very thought of missing that sent a bit of panic through her.

There was a new set of Aurors looking through the Potter vault this time around, and Gnenish was standing just outside the vault door looking annoyed. His ear was twitching slightly as his foot tapped. He'd never been pleasant when dealing with humans, she noted— not since a gang of them had accosted him in Diagon Alley, dragged him to Knockturn, and tried to beat information on how to break into Gringotts.

All of that had gone down long before Hermione's time, but his memory was still fresh of it. Oddly, he had been one of the first to befriend her once he noticed the vault bats had started whispering about her— her kind hands and accepting touches.

It had embarrassed Hermione to be caught cuddling a bat, and she hadn't realised at the time that getting the respect of Gnenish was like getting a goblin silver seal of approval, complete with filigree and intricate detailing.

Gnenish was always the first to warn her not to trust humans, even knowing that she had once been one.

Humans could _not _be trusted.

Humans did _not _understand.

In a way, he wasn't so wrong. Most humans were— quite lacking in any desire to understand goblin ways, yet the goblins were expected to know all about human ways. Thanks to the Malfoys, old laws that forbid goblins to carry wands was no more, and for that, the Malfoys were rated far above most humans.

Ironically, the Malfoys were viewed as _knoginah_— honourable dealer, or person who does not disappoint and does not break contracts.

Contracts were something very big, she admitted.

Honour.

Respect.

Count on goblins to make one word mean about twenty-odd or so in English. English stumbled around multiple words trying to describe the meaning in a single word of Gobbledegook.

"_Kahzi tahl," _Hermione greeted the elder goblin, her elder at least.

Hell, there were many goblets older than her, but she was a bit of an anomaly having grown up human first. She'd gone through her Rite of Passage, the _Rogufai_, and become a true adult in the eyes of the Nation.

Some of the goblets thought she was nuts to do so before she was at least a few hundred years old.

Gosh, what _was _she thinking?

Hermione smiled.

_Glethkar_, the overachiever. Some things never changed.

She had to admit, goblin children had a nice, long childhood. They were taken care of, taught many different skill sets long before they had to choose a trade to stick with, and yet were allowed to be— children.

No goblin child would be put in a situation to oh, say, save the world?

Then again, no goblin child would ever be forced to live in a cupboard, either— not that goblets didn't adore small, cramped places to hide and even sleep. Hah. Goblets were part cat and part bat, she mused. Curious and prone to small, dark spaces.

"_Kahzi tahl," _Gnenish greeted back to her, his mood seemingly better upon seeing her.

_Kahzi tahl _meant "Earth keep you," which was basically pulled from the old days when goblins were hyper-aware of their own safety and used to hide themselves underground to keep from being caught out in the daylight and killed.

Goblins had come a very long way since then, but there were still a great many inequalities when dealing with the human world. They still had to wear glamours in the Muggle world, and oddly enough Muggles would pick on people of short stature like that mattered more than whether you could pay your bill.

Goblins were, and Hermione chuckled about it often, master wandless and silent magic users. Humans had not allowed them to use wands for fear of them being dangerous, but goblins were already dangerous because they adapted in spite of it. No wand? No problem, we'll do it _without _wands.

That was the goblin way.

Defiance.

Determination to live as a free nation.

Perhaps, Hermione realised, that was why she found Severus Snape so fascinating. He lived his entire life in defiance of one sort or another— a Dark wizard living the life of a teacher, saving lives while being a Death Eater. He was— complicated.

Most things in the _Glutra_ were, by default, complicated.

He did have the most purrable voice, though. It had always been so, but now— _gods— _it was like he spoke in the thrumming frequency of the Earth's vibration, the low rumble of magma under stone.

_He could read me the bloody dictionary,_ she realised. _I'd be happy with that alone. _

He had anger issues, though. Enough to spare. He was convinced that somehow the _Glutra_ had given up on Professor Flitwick and there was no coming back, but Filius Flitwick had chosen to turn his back on the Nation— many and multiple times. He had chosen the life of his human heritage, shunned any and all contact with the goblins save for a banking account, and skillfully avoided mentioning his mixed heritage whenever possible. He wanted to be human, treated as a human, seen as a human, but not just in the Wizarding world.

He wanted to be treated as human by the goblins as well.

That was why he was _Gaz'kiar._ The Earth no longer sang to him to sleep. He was a surfacer— utterly oblivious to the ground he walked on, just as the fully human wizard he wished so desperately to be.

It was _his _choice, just as it had been her choice to embrace the _Glutra_.

He had never taken the _Rogufai_, and thus had never been recognised as an adult in goblin society. There was a small chance that he could at some point in the future, but Hermione didn't really see him doing it.

Really, the only respect Filius needed to show to at least be considered pleasant— erm, socially _un_tense— terms was allow the elders to manage his bank account. That was something that just happened in the Nation, as natural as breathing.

Flitwick had refused such "tinkering" as he wished to manage his own.

That was _krakah_— insulting.

He insulted the elders by implying they were not trustworthy.

He was still a child to them.

Professor Flitwick had made quite a name for himself as a Hogwarts professor, Charms Master, expert duelist, and all-around outstanding wizard. He had achieved what he had worked so hard for.

The elders said that when the Earth abandoned you, the body didn't age the same way. Sometimes it got "mixed up" trying to figure out where to land.

Hermione wondered if that was why in her first year, Professor Flitwick had looked old and shriveled but in the years after he had seemed strangely younger.

His voice lacked the rich timbre of the song of the Earth woven into the tone. Humans would call his voice rather— squeaky. It wasn't a bat-like sort of squeaky, either, or even the light squeaks of vault-spiderese. Even _they _had the Earthsong woven into their voices.

"Your father was singing in the lower vaults again," Gnenish said with no little amusement. "Quite drunkenly, I might add."

"Impossible," Hermione scoffed. "Who spiked his drink?"

Gnenish bared his teeth, amused. "One of the goblets."

Hermione facepalmed and rubbed the tips of her ears. "Good thing they are so young. He'd have their hides otherwise."

Gnenish laughed. "The young are curious and full of mischief. None more so than a goblet."

Hermione snorted. "Father tells me that you were quite the young goblet in your youth."

Gnenish smiled wickedly. "I was a very apt prankster."

Hermione read between the lines. "Have _you _been encouraging certain goblets to make mischief with my father?"

"Specifically? No," the goblin replied, his black eyes twinkling. He peered into the vault where the two Aurors were "doing inventory." "Have you told your father whether you wish to have Snape's vault declared _krekvist_?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Merlin, _nash!" _she exclaimed. "He just had an unfortunate fit of temper. He did not insult on purpose. I hardly want to close his vaults to the honour-debt."

"It's well within your right," Gnenish said sombrely.

"_Ka, ka,"_ Hermione agreed. "He truly had _no _idea what nonsense spouted from his mouth, I think," she mused. "It was a purely emotional outburst in nature— something I would not have seen in my youth. In a way, it was somewhat flattering he felt open enough to be emotional. I am just sad that it had to be that."

Gnenish shrugged. "You have a soft spot for humans," he ribbed, his ear twitched with playfulness that most humans would not have seen as anything but insulting.

Hermione huffed, feigning insult.

"You do have a soft spot for that one," Gnenish said, now serious. "The Earth sings in your voice whenever you say his name."

Hermione flushed. "Great, now the Earth itself is tattling on me."

Gnenish chuckled.

Hermione sobered. "Regardless of what my idiot heart thinks, I'm realistic enough to know he doesn't feel the same about me."

Gnenish shook his head. "Don't be so sure."

Hermione gave him "the look."

"He marched in today, waited for two whole hours to see your father, proclaimed his abject apology in front of _Grisshivar'nak'tal_ and everyone, and wished to know what he could do to make things right."

"My father? Grissnak?"

"How many fathers do you _have_, child?"

"About a hundred or more, as you well know," Hermione said somewhat accusingly.

Gnenish laughed heartily. "A child of the _Glutra_ is the child of everyone," he said with a fang-toothed smile. He sniffed and lifted his head. "Grissnak has him working with Tranka on a cure for the cat-witch," he said. "Perhaps a combination of goblin and wizard magics can free her from being stuck as a cat— though I happen to think she is far more acceptable in fur."

"_**Gnenish!"**_ Hermione protested, turning red.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of the vault door slamming closed accompanied by the sound of a great avalanche of coins.

Gnenish sighed as Hermione rubbed her temples frantically.

"Idiots," they said together.

"How long do you think the paperwork should take before we can open the door?" Hermione said, arching a slim brow.

Gnenish sniffed. "I don't know. I don't hear anything,now. Perhaps the Aurors left." His smile was absolutely vicious.

* * *

Severus realised that he could, in fact, feel even more of an idiot as he was permitted to enter what was probably the most elaborately laid out alchemical and potions laboratory he had ever seen in his entire _life_.

After being allowed into the areas he was sure most if not none of the outside world was permitted to see, being pranked by goblin children in a good-natured and admittedly genius way, and having been told none too sternly _exactly _what the elders would have done to his vaults had Hermione been even remotely inclined to call a debt of honour upon his insult—

He had definitely dodged a killing curse there, both for himself and his business.

As if being royally dressed down by Narcissa over tea hadn't been bad enough. He shuddered at the memory of certain particularly grave threats his best friend's wife had issued with regard to his manhood if he didn't rectify the situation at once.

As far as Lucius Malfoy was concerned, the former Lily Evans was nothing compared to the sodding cockup he had performed in the present in trying to assassinate both their business and his personal life in one fell swoop.

So, much as he'd done when he prostrated himself on the Gryffindor stairs as he begged Lily to forgive him, he'd marched in for an audience with Gres… Grev… Grisshev...shiv… bother and damnation. No wonder they called him Grissnak.

He'd yet to see Hermione since his stupid ego and indignance on Flitwick's account had shoved his head firmly up his own arse and given Rita Skeeter one more damning story to publish.

There had been a time when no one could have spied on the spy— his extreme paranoia would not have allowed it.

But he had angrily met with William Weasley— more to vent than to resolve— and he had made an already bad situation worse.

Now, people believed Hermione to be some sort of deluded witch manipulated by the goblins into a lifetime of servitude—

At least they didn't believe her to be a real goblin, but that was beside the point. He'd put the spotlight on her.

Just as assuredly as he had with Lily.

He'd done his best to assassinate Hermione's character as well as he'd turned the Dark Lord's eye towards Lily Evans— Potter.

Gods, would he _ever _manage pull his head out of his own arse and learn to bite his damnable tongue?

What use was quick wit and mental fortitude when he went and bungled things up so easily?

_Master of potions, my arse_, he scolded himself. _Bloody master of foot-in-mouth._

Goblins were openly whispering to each other as he passed by, strangely unimpressed by his normal billow and ceaseless black. They all spoke in Gobbledegook, so he couldn't even tell what they were saying to each other.

It didn't take much to tell, however, that they wondered what he had done to be allowed into the private, goblin-only areas.

_Hisssss_CHOMP!

"_**OUCH!"**_ Snape cried as a blur of silver and black fury mauled his ankle.

_HISSSSS!_

The silver tabby was picked up by one of the goblin children and was promptly absconded with. The tabby gave him a glare—

"Minerva?" Severus whispered.

So, it _was _true then. Minerva was trapped in her cat form. Why had he had such a hard time believing that?

Perhaps, he thought, he couldn't believe that a witch as skilled and powerful as Minerva McGonagall could be trapped as a feline. Maybe he just didn't want to that think the odious Rita Skeeter was savvy enough to pull one over on Minerva.

Of course… Ms Skeeter wasn't exactly talking anymore, was she?

Then again, perhaps Potter had some other plan in store for Ms Skeeter— if he ever managed to get her out of Mungos. Severus didn't know, and at one time he would have said he didn't _care_, either.

That was then, however.

That was before—

Severus winced.

Why was it that every time he finally came to terms with some sort of powerful feeling, he ended up epically mucking it up?

His love of his mother had made him choose Slytherin.

His impotent wrath against his father had driven him to the Death Eaters.

His indignation and rage had caused him to call his best childhood friend a Mudblood.

His baggage from making bad choices and wanting desperately to be forgiven for them had egged him into being wrathful for Flitwick's sake and thus flipping off an entire nation.

He was a sodding mess.

"This is what we have done so far," the elder goblin Tranka said as he set down a very large tome.

The writing was utterly immaculate— as clear and pristine as a textbook, written with an impeccably neat hand.

As Severus looked it over, he realised just how much had already been done. The complexities were far beyond anything he'd seen in even his fellow masters. He'd always easily surpassed his peers, but this goblin was no fool, and he needed no wand to get his results.

"I will need some time to look this over," said Severus, tapping the pages with one finger.

"Of course," Tranka said with a sniff, his eyes narrowing as he looked across the room. "You may make yourself—" He paused, tilted his head. "Comfortable. I will find you something that will not poison you to eat," he finished, leaving no room for conversation otherwise as he walked off, leaving Severus in the laboratory of his dreams but sadly unable to utilise it.

He had no doubt the goblin knew every single item in there and would sense if anything at all was amiss.

So, he sat and read Tranka's notes, trying not to oogle too much at the sheer grandness of the goblin's potions laboratory.

There was a child, or at least what he thought was a young goblin child, carefully lifting the bottles, cleaning them, and setting them back on the shelf. The very thought of a child in his laboratory horrified him, knowing what even older children did when trying to get ingredients out for their potions.

"_Kha va ne stan?"_ the child asked— thin air?

He heard a soft chittering, and then he noticed a small bat nestled against the child's neck.

"_Ka!"_ the child said, bobbing her head in response. She carefully dusted the space where the bottle was before carefully putting it back. She smiled and continued on with her chores, always stopping immediately whenever the bat chattered commentary, adjusting her touch or position, speed or movement.

Severus suddenly realised the child was not unattended in the slightest.

The child saw something outside the lab and carefully set down the cleaned objects before rushing out the door and happily pouncing a very familiar bushy-haired figure.

"_Kahzi tahl!" _the child greeted excitedly, "_Suta vita!"_

"Oof! You found me!" the witch replied, turning around in a spin to amuse the child. "You know better than to speak Gobbledegook around our honoured guests, Mishin."

"But he scowls a lot," the child protested. "And he stares at me."

Hermione laughed. "So do you, my dear."

The child pouted and then laughed. "I don't want him to cure the cat-lady. I _like _her and want her to stay!"

"She can stay without being a cat all the time, love."

The child tilted her head. "She can?"

"Of course, pet."

Mishin beamed. "Yay!"

Hermione scratched under the bat's chin with a smile, offering up a large grasshopper.

The bat squeaked excitedly, taking to it with gusto and loud crunching noises.

The bat on Hermione's shoulder squeaked covetously. The witch chuckled, sharing another grasshopper with the protesting bat.

"Are all your chores done for the day?"

"Yes!"

"Did you help Master Tranka?"

The child nodded.

Hermione pulled a golden galleon out of thin air. "You can go get some of that homemade Italian ice you like so much, but don't forget your glamour and watch out for traffic."

Mishin beamed. "I'm always careful, Auntie! Come on, Tulse!" she told the bat on her shoulder. "Let's go!"

She shined up the galleon with her sleeve and dashed off, but not before stopping by an elder goblin standing under an awning nearby. "Elder, will you honour me by taking my galleon and allowing me enough to get a treat?"

The wizened goblin, nodded and sniffed, inspecting the shiny coin. He pocketed it and handed her a fistful of Muggle coins in turn. The child beamed at him, baring her teeth, which the elder mirrored as he patted her fondly on the head.

Mishin disappeared down the hall as a few envious others watched her from where they were still performing their own chores for the day.

Severus watched as the elder goblin ran his finger along the wall nearby. A special chute formed, and he placed the galleon inside it, traced something on the wall, and observed the galleon then shoot off to some predetermined destination.

"_Haar da te Glutra, Kla'wor _Gnivkar," Hermione greeted.

She knelt and they rubbed noses before putting their foreheads together. They bared their teeth at each other before she placed a plump sack of coins in the elder's hands.

He clucked his tongue as he looked through it, counting them out extraordinarily quickly, and then he nodded. He traced the wall again, placing the bag into the formed chute, and sent it off.

The pair embraced again, the older goblin gently patting her hands before shuffling off into one of the other working areas.

"Your meal, Master Snape," Master Tranka said, having silently returned to the lab like a soft-footed feline in the dark of night. "I hope I found you something palatable to your tastes."

Snape jolted out of his (albeit lousy) attempt at spying and now found himself faced with a large table full of various odd-looking foods that he had never seen before.

"I consulted with _Kla'wier _Hermione to discover which of our foods would not immediately kill you," Tranka said.

"Kla— we-ear?" Snape sounded it out.

Tranka tilted his head. "Oh, that means she is a Master but— younger than I. She is… quite formidable, learned. When my age reach— someone to be reckoned with." He seemed to stumble on the English, as if his mind was caught between the languages. It made Snape wonder how many languages Tranka knew, or how many he'd forgotten.

"She is already— very much a force to be reckoned with," confessed Snape.

Tranka's lips twitched. "She is a goblin. That is a given."

The meal, as it turned out, was wonderfully flavourful, and Snape found himself eating it without problems. He wondered how many things he was not allowed to eat due to considerable differences in biology.

"That is _sika_," Tranka explained. "It is a type of fern from below. "This is _kholda_, an edible fungus that likes to grow near our vaults. It is a purifier of the blood, and eating it is considered very healthy. This—" He pointed to the asparagus-like spears. "This is _vok_. It only grows in the very deepest pools in the Earth where the great underground lakes flourish. This one that you liked so much is a rare treat. _Truka_, the stone turkey. It turns to stone if it spots you and is utterly impervious to any and all capture or hunting. To hunt them alone is to be exceptionally skilled— to successfully bring one back is considered very lucky, indeed."

"Thank you for the meal," Severus said, having never felt so full in his life, and having been at Hogwarts for at least some of his years, he had not exactly lived entirely in famine.

"Does it all grow naturally here, or can you farm it?"

"_Ka_," the goblin said, musing. "It can be… both? _Kla'wier_ Hermione built us an extensive hydroponics setup when she helped to repair the lower levels. It was her—" Tranka frowned, searching for the words. "She called it a form of atonement and meditation."

"She did it, or so she thought, without goblin magic, but what she did not realise was that she _**was **_using goblin magic. It called out to her— she could hear the bats, and through them she heard the Song of the Earth. When she meditated, she created vast caverns of habitat for growing many of our traditional foods and a subterranean lake and hot springs. She never even realised it, which is why Grissnak wanted to adopt her. She is— a natural. The Earth sings in her blood."

Severus boggled at the extent of the knowledge he was gaining just from being allowed in to help work on a cure for Minerva— insight into the rich culture he never knew existed and the witch he hadn't even thought of until that one night stumbling into the Glacial Gambol.

Only now, he couldn't seem to get her out of his head.

She was strong, powerful, and she did not _need_ the likes of him to complete her.

Even though a part of him selfishly wished that he could somehow catch and keep her eye.

Why?

He'd gone a long time without any thought of having a witch in his life after he'd gone and royally made a mess of his life with making increasingly poor choices.

He was still making horrible choices and letting his tongue and fury get him into bad situations. He would _never _have wished Skeeter on Hermione Granger, maybe someone else that deserved it, but Hermione wasn't one of them. Even after prostrating himself in front of Elder Grissnak—

He still felt like he was making the same kind of stupid mistakes as when he was sodding seventeen.

Maybe, just maybe, he could manage to keep his head on straight, finish the task at hand, and find some way to win himself back into Granger's more accepting graces— the tolerant, warm smile that seemed to welcome even him.

First things first, though.

He _had _to find a way to help cure Minerva—and Ms Skeeter was quite probably under lock and key on Potter's watch, deep in the Aurory's most well-guarded cells outside of Azkaban.

He'd have to do it without Skeeter's memories of what she'd done to the feline Animagus.

Just finding out about Skeeter's involvement had been sheer luck in having overheard one of her odd, involuntary confessions at Mungos while he was there delivering potions. Shortly after, Potter and his minions had descended upon Mungos and taken Skeeter into DMLE custody, despite all the healers' protests.

What, he wondered, had been so dire that it required sequestering Rita Skeeter _now _versus all the other times before?

Severus narrowed his eyes.

Anger smouldered under his very skin. Something had happened after the war that had separated Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley from one Hermione Granger. He'd had enough of self-serving secrets being kept close around him while leaving him very much in the dark.

* * *

Severus may have been new to the Goblin Nation, but he was no inexperienced whelp when it came to recognising suspicious behaviour.

Of all the goblins that came in and out of the living area and all the ones he'd observed intensely in his effort to get to know the people Hermione had become a part of, he could practically smell something wrong.

The cure for Minerva was finally completed— at least on paper. The brewing would take upwards of a year to complete with a mixture of standard potion ingredients and goblin-sourced ones. The standard ones were by no means easy to come by, either, standard or not.

Standard did _not _necessarily mean common.

Every goblin seemed to have a very tight community bond, save the new transfers from other branches.

Hargnoc was a recent transfer to Gringotts London from across the pond, and he had immediately taken great offense to the "tall goblin" and cursed at her in Gobbledegook, fully believing she wouldn't know what he was saying.

Hermione had calmly corrected his faulty grammar and then informed him that if he _really _had an excess crop of cabbages that he wished shove up another goblin's nethers that he should probably consider a career change for agricultural management rather than finance.

That was Hermione Granger, all right.

She had gained quite a bit of sass since he knew her in school, then again, perhaps she'd always had it but had too much respect for her professors to show it.

That seemed about right.

Hand-waving and bouncing in her seat aside…

The child that had once had so much to prove was gone.

Hermione Granger was a grown, powerful witch who had come into her own despite being firmly blocked from the original careers she had wanted. Ostracised from her original species, even.

And after his dismal affliction of severe foot-in-mouth disease, he was determined to prove he was better than his anger and— better than this obnoxious foreign goblin that was making all the other transplants look bad.

As Hermione ran her finger across the impossibly large vault door that housed the funds of his business, the great door creaked and rolled aside. He saw the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eyes, smelling a change in scent that was out of place.

He also smelled that American goblin— Hargnoc.

He couldn't quite place _why _Hargnoc smelled different, either. He just had a peculiar scent about him that smelled of different earth than Britain. He'd come to know what Hermione's extended family smelled like: clean earth and loam and ancient stone.

He smelled of foreign land and a sort of highly coveted, expensive cologne that had been washed off but not totally obliterated.

Snape put a restraining hand on Hermione's shoulder, silently putting his finger to his lips as his eyes moved to the side.

Hermione, who had been nothing but polite— if but formally so, turned and cocked her head, ears flicking. Then her eyes narrowed, and her clawed hand slammed against the walls of the vault stone, sending a surge of ancient, powerful magic through the stone.

The bats were a flurry of black, browns, and greys. They filled the entire corridor— save for one distinct void and—

_**No!**_

Severus whirled, but it was already too late.

Hargnoc had leapt on Hermione's shoulders and pressed a distinctive injector ring to her neck. "Turn off the alarm," he ordered, not even bothering to use Gobbledegook. "Or I end you here. Now."

Snape saw the darkness grow in Hermione's eyes— the blackness of a decision made.

_**NO!**_

Hermione let out an almost silent _SCREEEEEEEEEE_ just before the poison-filled ring was thrust into her neck, and she fell heavily to the ground.

"_**Sectumsempra!"**_ Snape yelled, his wand not even in his hand as his incandescent wrath boiled over.

Not her.

Never _her_.

The panicked bat on Hermione's shoulder squeaked in obvious distress, bumping into her head over and over, trying to get her to respond.

The other bats swirled around even more densely as they carried off some sort of—

Potter suddenly stood exposed as he ducked and covered from the frantically swirling bats, having not even noticed that his cover was now gone.

Hargnoc fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from a hundred slashes.

Severus' body was aflame with fury. His fists clenched as his mind was filled with the memory of Hermione's gentle smile— before he had so stupidly fucked everything up.

"_Haar da te Glutra_," Severus snarled, as his hand clenched, and blood dripped from his fingers. He slammed his hand down to the earth and his own blood mingled with the stone as magic heard his agony.

A blast of magic crackled forward like the chasm between tectonic plates, and Harry James Potter was transformed into a startled-looking turkey that promptly turned to stone upon being seen by something other than another _truka_.

A flood of goblins and curse-breakers were flowing into the area by rail car, but Severus didn't see them.

He cradled Hermione tenderly in his lap even as he fell to his knees, touching in her a way he dared not do previously. He crumpled, pressing his forehead to hers as his nose slid against hers, tears he hadn't shed previously curled down his hooked nose, splattering against her skin. He pulled her into his embrace, his arms wrapping around her like the folding of bat wings.

He saw her in his mind as she taught the young goblets, wistfully wondering what it would have been like if one of them had been theirs.

"Master Snape," she admonished the goblets, correcting them as they called him Snape. "He's a potions master."

He saw the bats lined up on the counter as she named each one before giving them a plump cricket and a fond scritch under the chin.

He saw her brewing her drinks with the same dedication of a potions master, closing her eyes as she sensed what to do instead of following a recipe from a book.

He saw her weaving intricate wards, crafting gardens and oases under the ground to grow food and bring peace to all who lived there.

Laughing as she served drinks to her people.

Smiling as her fingers touched his as she passed him his drink.

The peace on her face as she fell asleep reading a book, the clutter of attention-loving fluffy spiders curled around and tucked in her arms, having evicted the bats for attention—

The bats sneaking back into her hair, having refused to be evicted for long.

The genuine look of relief at seeing him alive and well—

The wistful longing in her expression to be understood by him before the cold settled in after his blunder—

The great care she had taken to make absolutely sure that she never stepped out of bounds with him after that—

Never accidentally touching.

Never implying more than simple politeness.

His fault.

His fault.

His fault!

He fumbled as he pulled a vial out from around his neck, popped the cork, sniffed it once, winced, and then chugged it into his mouth, activating it with his magic, will, and power— the antivenin had always been so, lest the Dark Lord find it and realise what it was.

He had always kept the secret safe and close.

Somehow—

Granger— _**Hermione!**_—must have figured out how to activate it and save his life. No one else could have figured it out so fast.

She'd saved his life. _THAT _was why she had never asked him for an apprenticeship. She'd instinctively known he would have seen it as blackmail, and he would hated her. That was what he was good at: reacting stupidly without thinking in his personal life. Oh, sure he could be a _SPY_, but when it came to saving himself, he was such an utter Gryffindor.

He pressed his mouth to hers, hoping, praying that the antidote that had saved him from Nagini would also save her from an unknown venom or poison. His hand clasped her neck, stroking the muscles to encourage the swallowing reflex.

Please, Merlin, work.

Nothing.

No movement. No blink. Not a breath—

People were trying to pull him back— flashes of healer green.

He fought them, trying to hold on to her, desperate to save her so he could tell her how he really felt, explain his stupid anger, beg for her forgiveness.

"_We can die, of course, but short of murder we live a long time," Hermione had said._

"Please," he begged, his voice breaking as he breathed against her cheek. "Please."

"_I will never forgive you," Lily had hissed. "Go back to your Death Eater friends." _

_Coward,_ his heart accused.

"I _need _you," he whispered.

The devil on his shoulder crowed, "_If she dies, the life debt will be gone." _

Severus' seething rage subsequently consumed the apparition in fire.

"There is _**nothing **_without her!" he screamed from his heart as he realised his willingness to embarrass himself in front of the Goblin Nation was just one more symptom of his fallible love.

It had nothing to do with a life debt.

It had everything to do with _HER_.

Brilliant.

Powerful.

Compassionate _her_.

His face twisted into a grimace as a his grief fought with sheer desperation.

Denial.

Agony.

There had been nothing in the future with Lily. That was an act of fate.

But his lack of relationship with Hermione had been his own doing— emotional sabotage chased by rude indignant rage for the wrong person, to the wrong person.

"I was afraid," he choked out the words. "You don't have to be with me. I don't deserve you, but please. Please fight. _Please_. Use that bloody Gryffindor spirit. Fight. Live! Please!"

He wept raggedly, his face twisted as a low groan transformed into a howl of anguish.

Her smile was there in his mind's eye, brilliant and full of life.

Oh, but if he had met her as a child. His life would have been _so _different.

Lily had been a flame of beauty and talent.

Hermione was a beacon of pure life and compassion chased by a shining brilliance that outshone almost everyone. If she had possessed the ambition, she could have taken over the world, by force if necessary.

The bat that had been desperately trying to get Hermione to move panted heavily with exhaustion, its sides heaving as it struggled to gather the strength to push against her chin once more. Just once more.

Severus saw himself in that small creature, even as his own breaths came in struggled, agonising heaves.

His bloodied hand brushed against her pale cheek as her wild curls tangled with his fingers. He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss, pouring his energy, magic, will, desire, and pain into the one act he had been far too much of a coward to do while she was awake and standing before him.

He could feel the Earth within her.

It still sang from her very soul.

Save her.

_Please_.

Save her!

"_Kahzi tahl," _he wept, using the greeting he'd learned meant "Earth keep you."

It was a greeting.

It was farewell.

It was a prayer.

Her soft breath brushed against his mouth as her eyes opened. Black eyes met his. "_Kahzi tahl_," she repeated, her hand brushed his cheek.

Her eyes closed, and Snape felt panic encircle his heart and squeeze tightly.

"Hold me," she whispered.

He held her close to him, a sob rising in his chest and escaping.

"Don't let go."

"Never," he swore. "Ever."

Her eyes met his— hope and fear dwelling within. "Would you bind your life to mine? A goblin. A pariah."

Severus looked deep within her gaze. "When I am with you, I hear the Song." He pressed his forehead to hers, brushing his nose against hers as he bared his teeth in the goblin sign of respect. "I would be with you and only you, always."

"A goblin lives a very long time," she said, a tender smile on her lips.

"I look forward to every century, every year, every hour, every moment. Our rows will most likely be epic, but I promise you I will always desire to meet you halfway, and I will try very hard to get rid of this terrible case of foot-in-mouth disease I have seemingly picked up."

"Severus."

"Hermione?"

"Tell me to turn to page three hundred and ninety-four."

Severus frowned, cocking his head. "Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four."

Hermione let out a contented sigh. "I think I'll live," she said, her eyes closing as her head thumped against his chest. Her hand cupped the little bat against her sternum as it let out a heavy sigh of relief and squeaking.

Silence.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Severus startled. "For what?"

"Saving my life."

He blinked as she was already softly snoring against him, sound asleep.

"You're welcome," he replied as he pulled her under his chin and kept her wrapped in his embrace even as the goblins dragged Hargnoc away on a stretcher, his body bleeding through the bandages.

The curse-breakers eyed the stone _truka_-turkey that had been or still was Harry Potter. Bats were dangling on the new "statue" as they chattered away.

"What do we do with _this_?" one asked.

"Save it," Snape said clearly, even as he stood, cradling Hermione to him as he prepared to walk to the rail car.

"Um, for what?" the curse-breaker asked, baffled.

"It's going to be the topper for our wedding cake," Snape said, utterly deadpan, as he carried Hermione away.

The curse-breakers exchanged puzzled glances.

"He serious, you think?"

"He never looks anything but serious."

"Yeah but, does he joke?"

"Not that I know of."

"Oh."

They pointed their wands at the _truka_ statue and levitated it with them as they, too, walked to the rail car to leave.

* * *

**Harry Potter Missing!**

Head Auror Harry Potter has been reported missing since approximately nine pm Sunday evening. Anyone with information about his disappearance is asked to owl the DMLE at the Ministry.

Best mate Ronald Weasley and long-time friend, Ginevra Weasley stated he was supposed to show up for a regularly scheduled family dinner, but he never showed. Thinking he had been called in to work on some business, they did not report him missing until nine in the evening when he failed to pick up the tickets to this year's Quidditch World Cup as planned.

"He just wouldn't miss something like that," Ronald Weasley stated as he scratched his head. "Not our 'arry."

* * *

_**Confessions of Rita Skeeter Discovered During Search of **_

_**Missing Head Auror Harry Potter's Office and DMLE**_

Full transcripts of the afflicted former writer Rita Skeeter's confessions have been horrifying the Wizengamot as rumours of the Aurory being rife with corruption under Head Auror Potter's leadership have now been confirmed..

Ms Skeeter confessed to bribing many officials to turn the other way due to the information they had on her, and all of that information came spilling out with a sizeable number of parchment scrolls recordings.

Ms Skeeter was instrumental in deliberately sabotaging the life of Miss Hermione Granger due having been temporarily forced to "write the truth" while Granger was still attending Hogwarts. She now admits to having threatened the key members of the Mastery Guild to get Miss Granger blacklisted from apprenticing throughout Britain, all of them harbouring certain secrets that they did not wish to be revealed.

Other officials, such as former Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Xenophilius Lovegood, the managers of the Daily Prophet, and more have been "dealt with" by Ms Skeeter through various insidious and underhanded means.

The Wizengamot is going to be very busy the next few months trying to sort through the evidence transcriptions. Trials will start when the evidence is fully gathered, which may take upwards of a year depending on how many cases must be verified.

* * *

_**Ginevra Weasley Arrested for Conspiracy to Marry and Frame **_

_**Draco Malfoy to Get Access to Malfoy Fortune**_

* * *

_**Conspiracy to Break Into Gringotts Revealed After Goblins Lockdown Potter, Weasley Vaults For War Crimes**_

* * *

_**Former Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt Begged to Return**_

_**His Answer: NO!**_

* * *

_**Rita Skeeter Charged With Assault For Trapping Former Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall In Her Animagus Form Via **_

_**Enchanted 'Nip!**_

* * *

Bill folded up the Daily Prophet and ate his croissant.

"If Percy wasn't such a ruddy idiot, I'd say he was right about Harry being no good. I mean he was, technically, right but for all the most bizarre reasons."

Hermione looked up from the vat she was tending. "What does Charlie think of all this?"

"Damn glad he's still in Romania is what he's telling me," Bill replied with a shrug. "He never got hit up by Ron to share an account so he could get his paychecks since his vault was sealed, not that he'd ever do that anyway. Why dad and mum did is beyond me. It just got their account locked down too."

Hermione bared her teeth. "Rules were clear."

Bill chuckled. "I know. I just boggle at my family."

"How is Severus adjusting?" Bill asked.

"Five parts curious, one part stubborn, two parts determined, one part frustrated, and one part git," Hermione answered.

"Only one part?" Bill mused.

Hermione flicked her left ear. "He's dedicated to keeping his promise to do what he has to in order to marry me."

Bill smiled. "Well, you're worth it."

Hermione threw a cork at Bill, which he ducked.

"You are," Severus' voice rumbled as he sneaked a kiss.

Hermione squealed and allowed him to gather her up in a crushing hug. "I suppose you're allowed," Hermione muttered, trying to look unhappy but failing.

Severus slumped against her as she massaged his new pointed ears. He bared his pointed teeth in elation, making a low crooning growl. "Who knew goblins had such elaborate courting rituals before marriage. I'm okay with it, though." He looked at Hermione, his expression softening. "She's worth it."

"Probably helped that getting adopted as a goblin cancelled out that cycle of emotional backlash you had going on," Bill said.

"Lucius thinks Dumbledore may have placed it on me as early as when Black tried to assassinate me with Lupin," Snape said. "To make me predictably emotionally charged. I mean, I still feel the emotion, but I no longer feel like I have to run at the mouth or explode."

"Such an odd hex. Insidious. Why do you think—?"

Severus frowned and shook his head. "Who knows. Maybe Albus wanted me to do something stupid and come back asking for favours. Maybe he wanted me to realise my emotions would hurt me and died before he could take the hex off me. I honestly can't say for sure."

"I have to admit, Albus kept his secrets," Bill said.

Severus growled and pulled Hermione closer, seeing her comfort. She relaxed into him, and he, too, relaxed. "I think it was Hermione— her connection to the Song. In connecting with her, it started to unravel, but as about as predictably as it did."

"Badly."

"Yes."

"Can I point out I'm happy with the end results?" Hermione quipped.

Severus sighed and thumped his forehead to hers. "I suppose."

"Albus couldn't have planned for exposure to goblin _cevik_," Bill said. "Few outsiders even know of the goblin's affinity to Earth magic, and those that do will not speak of it to outsiders that are not a part of the _glutra_ in some way."

Bill looked up. "So, when will father-Tranka let you formally propose to Grissnak's daughter?" he asked with a chuckle.

Hermione facepalmed, shaking her head.

"Once finish the project I promised during my _Rogufi_," Severus said. "Even though my Rite of Passage is complete, I promised him I would finish a tome with the synergies of basic Wizarding potion ingredients and how they react with the goblin ones. I don't mind doing it, as it had to be done anyway. Most of it is writing down what I learned while developing the cure for Minerva. Once that is done, he will give his blessing as my father to propose in front of Merlin and everyone."

Bill laughed. "Don't sound so excited."

"I do not look forward to that ordeal, the poking, the proding, the jesting—"

"The feasts are pretty worth it," Hermione said. "The games are more amusing as the elders get knackered."

Severus snorted.

"Am I not worth it?" Hermione asked in a pout.

Severus growled lowly, capturing her mouth for a kiss. "You know you are."

Hermione smile cheekily. "I still like it when you tell me so."

Severus sobered a bit. "I never wish you to think my feelings for you will wane. Not ever. What I feel is powerful, and I am a selfish wizard who wants you to himself."

"I like that you are not the type to wander," Hermione admitted. She touched his nose with her fingers. "Sometimes, I feel you are a dream but to disappear with the morning's light."

"If only to close the blinds," Severus groused.

Hermione flicked her fingers against his chest. "I must go. Narcissa wants to shop, and she insists I accompany her."

Severus' gaze lingered upon her. "If you must. I will go and make sure Lucius hasn't burned down our business and turned Draco into a peacock."

Bill laughed. "I feel quite blessed that I am going home to my lovely wife and children and sleeping for a day."

"_Kla ve sand moor," _Hermione said with a smile and flash of teeth.

"See you both in the morning too," Bill replied, baring his teeth before taking his leave.

Hermione stood on her tiptoes to kiss Severus' nose. "_Kla ve sand eir,_" she said with a smile.

Severus placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips. "We shall meet in the evening, love."

"_Ka," _Hermione agreed as she scurried out the door.

Severus looked on, feeling a warmth in his heart that both lightened his heart and comforted it. He knew that was Hermione's doing, and he would thank every god and goddess he knew for having guided him to the Glacial Gambol what seemed like only the last week.

For now, he had goals, and he knew he would accomplish them. She would be waiting to join him at its end, and then they would walk together through life as a mated pair, deep in the heart of the _Glutra_ where goblins were supreme.

Severus smiled, his tongue running across his pointed teeth.

The world better hold on tight.

"_Haar da tu Glutra_," Severus said smugly. "Honour to my Nation."

* * *

_**End of Chapter Two**_

* * *

**A/N: **There may be-possibly-will be an epilogue, but not for a while because I'm back to work tomorrow!


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